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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

®§ap»- Cop^rig|t Ju, 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 


















ISGBEL’S BETWEEN TIMES 





/ 


BY MRS. NATHANIEL CONKLIN. 

(JENNIE M. DRINKWATER.) 


I. TESSA WADSWORTH’S DISCIPLINE. $1.50 

II. RUE’S HELPS 1 2 mo. $1.50 

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and young alike, will relish it. It is the sort of book which ought to be multi- 
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III. ELECTA i2mo. $1.50 

“ The special charm of this book is that the people in it and the scenes described 
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ested in them as though they were real persons. This we consider very nearly 
the perfection of literary art.” — Christia n Instructor. 

IV. FIFTEEN; or Lydia’s Happenings . . $1.50 

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V. BEK’S FIRST CORNER . . imo. $1.50 

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VI. MISS PRUDENCE .... i2mo. $1.50 

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to change the heart and keep a soul sweet and patient in adversity. A helpful 
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VII. THE STORY OF HANNAH . . . $1.50 

” Hannah’s character is well drawn, and her cheery strength and unfailing 
trust in God ought to be helpful and inspiring to those who read her bright 
words.” — S. S. Times . 

VIII. THAT QUISSET HOUSE . . . . $1.50 

“ There are sections of the story which are equal to Mrs. Prentiss’s best writ- 
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thought and giving the highest pleasure. It should take a high place among the 
most prized works of religious literature.” — Christian Intelligencer . 

IX. ISOBEUS BETWEEN TIMES. i2mo. $1.50 

X. ONLY NED ; or, Grandmamma's Lesson. $1.25 

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XII. FRED AND JEANIE . . . i2mo. $1.25 


ROBERT CARTER BROTHERS. 


Isobel’s Between Times 



MRS. NATHANIEL CONKLIN 

!l 

(JENNIE M. DRINKWATER) 


“ My times are in Thy hand.” — David. 

“Girls fain would know the end of everything.” — Mrs. Browning. 

“God, the best maker of marriages, bless you.” — Shakespeare. 

“ The woof of life is dark, but it is shot with a warp of gold.” — F. W. Robertson, 



NEW YORK 

ROBERT CARTER AND BROTHERS 


Broadway 


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n r ( b \ I- 


Copyright, i8£ , 

By Robert Carter & Brothers. 


ELECTROTYPED BY 

THE ORPHANS 1 PRESS — CHURCH CHARITY FOUNDATION, BROOKLYN, N. Y. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. ISOBEL 7 

II. OYER THE SEA 33 

III. PROSPER DEKKER 58 

IV. THE GOODSPEED 83 

Y. RHIZOPODS 103 

YI. THE NORTH SEA 112 

YII. IN THE NIGHT 129 

YIII. ANOTHER ISOBEL . 138 

IX. SUNDAY ON SHIPBOARD 148 

X. WAITING TIMES 163 

xi. isobel’s mother . . . . . . . .174 

XII. HER PROMISE ......... 191 

XIII. THE BOOK 206 

XIY. GRANDPA 217 

XV. LOST OVERBOARD 235 

XVI. THE FRENCH LESSON 248 

XVII. ALMOST A WOMAN ........ 260 

xviii. prosper’s talk. . 275 

XIX. PEREZ S TALK 288 

XX. SOMEBODY 308 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


XXI. DISCONTENTED 331 

XXII. GRANDFATHER’S , DIFFICULTIES 342 

XXIII. OYER THE WAY 353 

xxiv. bed’s education 368 

XXV. DOLLAR BILLS 382 

XXVI. ASLEEP 399 

XXVII. IN THE SHED AND ON THE PIAZZA . . . 406 

XXVIII. TRUE 41 7 

XXIX. FURS 424 

XXX. IN THE WINDOW SEAT. 434 

XXXI. STRONG AND WEAK. 443 

XXXII. NATURAL HISTORY AND A PROMISE . . . 455 

XXXIII. CHOOSING 469 

XXXIV. CONFESSION 481 

XXXV. A WEEK 487 

XXXVI. AT MADAME’ S 496 

XX Y VII. SEVEN YEARS 504 

XXXVIII. TWO WIVES AND TWO MOTHERS. . . . 511 

XXXIX. AFTERWARD 515 


ISOBEL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


I. 

ISOBEL. 

“ I do not see what I was made as I am, for,” 
exclaimed the girl at the window, in one of her 
tones of despairing patience. 

She had a great many tones of despairing 
patience. 

“In my opinion you are very prettily made,” 
complimented the placid and sincere old lady 
with the yards of white work at one of the other 
windows. 

The afternoon sun streamed in at the four long 
windows. Madame’s windows were the sunniest 
that looked out upon the square. The bare floor 
was illuminated : even the stone steps of the narrow 
passage caught the glow through the open door- 
way ; the girl’s hair shone like gold. In her white 
dress, with the knot of narrow rose-color at her 
throat and the faint rose-color in her cheeks, to the 

( 7 ) 


8 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


eyes that were watching her, she was indeed 
“ prettily made.” To herself, with her gray eyes, 
dark lashes, and darker eyebrows, she was not 
pretty at all. When she nttered her complaint her 
physical self was least in her thoughts ; she was 
wondering why her disposition,* her inclinations, 
her impulses, why her very best and her very 
worst self should be such as it was, so unfitted to 
her circumstances. “I do not see what I was 
made at all for — then,” she burst out, her despair 
breaking into open rebellion. 

“ Now you are wicked !” rebuked the placid 
voice, with about the degree of sternness with 
which she would have reproached her pet canary. 

“ You tell me that fifty times a day,” with a 
shrug of careless impatience. 

“Because it is true fifty times a day! You are 
the most ungrateful girl I ever knew; you grow 
worse every day.” 

“ Because things grow worse every day — things 
outside of me and inside of me. Tell me,” turning 
with sharp demand, “ what one thing have I ever 
had that other girls have ?” 

The rebukeful, caressing voice was silent. Isobel 
usually extinguished her; she usually extinguished 
every one who opposed her. “ I cannot answer 


ISOBEL. 


9 


her,” Madame had bewailed to her mother; “ it 
seems so reasonable when she talks.” 

Madame chirped to her canary, then bent her 
pretty lace head over her embroidery again. Isobel 
turned to the window, leaning back against the 
folded inside blinds. 

The conversation was usually in snatches. 
Another of Isobel’s grievances was that Madame 
grew stupid by the day. 

Isobel Kellinger was “prettily made;” that had 
been an acknowledged fact a great many years, if 
any fact at twenty, can have been known a great 

4 

many years. The knowledge of it and the truth of 
it had made no difference to her all her life. She 
supposed it never would make a difference ; ifc had 
never made her mother love her, or brought her 
father to school as often as once a year. It was two 
years now since she had seen him, and in all that 
time he had written exactly three letters; the 
latest, in her pocket, being the longest, and that 
was three pages. It is true her own letters did 
not encourage frequent or long replies ; how could 
she write freely to some one she did not know ? 

No ; being pretty, and quick at her lessons, had 
made no difference to her father and mother ; they 
had not cared for her gold medal and two silver 


10 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


ones ; nothing in her had made a difference to 
them ; how could she but lament the way she was 
made ? 

44 There are fathers enough like him” she had 
overheard Madame Mowbray say to Mademoiselle 
Abadie, 44 but she's unnatural.” 

For seventeen years Isobel Kellinger had been 
left to herself at a small boarding-school in the 
suburbs of Havre; her father had had a good 
report of the management of the girls from another 
American sea-captain, who had three daughters 
in the school; and her mother had brought her, a 
silent, pale child, before she had learned to speak 
her mother tongue. Her father had made but one 
stipulation : 44 Teach her everything you teach the 
other girls, only she must know English. She is 
a Yankee girl, and I wont have her Frenchified; 
put her in charge of an English woman ; the day 
she doesn’t speak better English than French I 
shall take her away.” 

The vacations were spent in Havre with 
Madame Mowbray, an elderly English widow, 
whose husband Captain Kellinger had known. 
There were no children at Madam e’s. The vaca- 
tions were the dolefulest parts of the doleful year. 

The child knew her school life was unsatisfying 


ISOBEL. 


11 


because of the continual something in herself 
that demanded something better. 

“It is very queer,” Madame had observed to 
Mademoiselle, “but with all his inattention, he 
seems to own the child more than she does. She 
always hesitates when I propose any new thing, 
and says, 4 1 must ask her father.’ I can hardly 
believe she is the poor little forlorn thing’s 
mother. But she is named Isobel, after her. ?? 

The window at which Isobel stood overlooked 
the great, paved square; opposite was the garden 
where the people were thronging, and the band 
playing martial music. Madame supposed she had 
stationed herself there because of the people and 
the music, as she had been accustomed to do dur- 
ing all her childish and .girlish days; in reality 
she was standing because it was less disagreeable 
than sitting; she liked the square because it was 
broader than the narrow streets at each side of it; 
she liked almost all the few things that she did 
like, because they were less disagreeable than 
some other things : Madame was less disagreeable 
than Mademoiselle, France less disagreeable than 
America, her father less disagreeable than Made- 
moiselle’s father, who took snuff and made queer 
little bows to the pupils. 


12 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


There was no degree of comparison in regard to 
the one being she loved with all the fervor and 
enthusiasm of her solitary, shut-up heart — she did 
not love or admire her beautiful gay mother — she 
simply worshipped her. Her absorbing grief was 
that this love was not returned; mamma kissed 
her when she came, brought her own pretty 
dresses to be made over for her, wrote long de- 
scriptive letters from every port, beginning, “My 
darling child,” and ending, “Your loving mamma,” 
but there it ended. “Mamma loved Lucy, but 
Lucy died;” how often this sad refrain rang in 
Isobel’s ears since she had spoken the words to 
Perez Dekker. She had never put the agony of it 
into words before. “ I think she would rather I had 
died and Lucy had lived. I asked her one day, and 
she kissed me and pushed me away from her. 
Lucy was seven when she died and I was four- 
teen. I was happy at school after she brought my 
little sister. Lucy was born in Madras, and 
mamma brought her to Madame; and when she 
was three years old she came to school and stayed 
with me. I taught her to speak English. Papa said 
I was never to speak French to her. All I wanted 
was my little sister and the old garden. But 
Lucy died after three days of illness, while mamma 


ISOBEL. 


13 


was in Peru; and all I had to show her when she 
came back was Lucy’s lovely photograph and her 
grave. I thought mamma would die. And papa 
wept and covered his face and was very kind to 
me that day, and called me his only little daughter. 
Now Mademoiselle has sold the garden for build- 
ing lots, and it is not country any longer. That is 
the way it has been with everything. My dove* 
died, and my parrot; the girl at school that I liked 
best had an English home and had to go to it; she 
always said she would write to me to come, but she 
never has; she writes, but she does not write of 
my coming. And now they are coming next year 
to decide what is to be done with me, because I 
am through school. I cannot do anything with 
myself, they must do something with me. Made- 
moiselle wishes me to stay and become the Eng- 
lish governess, but papa was not pleased when I 
asked him. I shall die if I have to go to your 
strange country among your strange people.” 

She was repeating her words now to herself, and 
looking up into the strange eyes that had grown 
sympathetic as he listened. All he said to comfort 
her was: “ Your grandfather is anxious to see you; 
he will be very kind to you. He has pink cheeks 
and white hair, and is as handsome as a picture.” 


14 


ISO BEE S BETWEEN TIM£s. 


“ But she shrank from such comfort; her grand- 
father to her was her father intensified. Perez 
Dekker — what an odd name it was — had an- 
swered her rapid, eager gestures with such cool- 
ness and seeming reservation that she had become 
chilled, and had broken off with an exclamation of 
hopelessness; and he had looked at her and said 
nothing. Since that day last summer America 
had seemed more dreadful than ever. 

He had come once again to say good-bye. His 
business was finished and he would sail for Amer- 
ica the next day. Had she any message to send ? 

“ Yes,” she exclaimed, passionately, flushing 
with many emotions, tell them they have never 
written to me or sent any word to me before, and I 
hate them all for leaving a lonely little girl to her- 
self for so many years, and I will never go to them 
unless my father compels me. I think I would 
rather sink into the bottom of the sea.” 

44 I will deliver it word for word,” he said, 
seriously, “but I am not one of 4 them. ’ I live 
opposite, and I never heard of you until the night 
before I came away, and then your grandfather 
sent for me.” 

44 1 am not glad you came. You have not told 
me anything, or done me any good.” 


ISOBEL. 


15 


“You shall not say that when I come here 
again.” 

She made no reply ; she did not care for him to 
come again. He was one of the strangers of that 
strange land. Had he been of her own kin he 
would have been a stranger still. 

A crash of music, and then a pause ; Isobel was 
not aware of either. 

“ I wonder what they would have done with 
Lucy ?” 

The utterance startled her; she did not know 
that she had spoken. 

“ I wish you were like other girls. Most girls 
love to look forward. I always did.” 

“I do not wish to become like other girls; I 
have never seen my ideal girl.” 

“ You have that to look forward to.” 

“I do not believe that she exists — outside of a 
book.” 

She can exist in you,” said Madame, with 
more comprehension of her mood than usual. 

Isobel laughed and gave her shoulders a careless 
shrug; Perez Dekker, among other things, had 
told her relatives that the French-American girl 
was all gestures and exclamations. 

u Looking forward was my delight when I was 


16 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


a girl,” remarked the placid voice; but Madame’s 
eyes were slightly disturbed. 

44 To what ? A cat and a canary, and darning 
stockings and making lace ? ” 

“I have had some other things in between; my 
between times have been very nice,” half sighed 
Madame, with a gentle, reminiscent smile. 

44 1 never have between times,” cried Isobel, with 
all the bitterness of her twenty years of neglect. 

H$r fingers were pressing that letter in her 
pocket; her father had written to her from New 
York, that he expected to sail for Liverpool. Her 
mother would come for her, and they would all 
together talk over the plans for her future. He 
could no longer afford even the few francs Mad- 
ame asked weekly for her board; he had taken 
good care of her twenty years ; many girls, at her 
age, especially American girls, supported them- 
selves. He believed that she was a true Yankee 
girl, in spite of her foreign training ; she ought to 
be, with her long line of American ancestry. 

Madame had hinted that she was visionary and 
dissatisfied; a little hard practical life would cure 
her of that. His present plan was to send her to 
her grandfather, her mother’s father; Perez Dek- 
ker had brought the report that she “hated” her 


ISOBEL. 


17 


relations : it was fully time that she was cured of 
such nonsense. Her mother had a revelation to 
make — now that she was old enough to hear it — 
and she must be prepared to take it without hys- 
terics or any such nonsense. And then he was her 
affectionate father, John S. Kellinger. 

The horror of that “ revelation ” was with her 
day and night. Last night she had dreamed that 
it was that she was to be a fish- woman, and she had 
wakened to laugh and then to have the dread re- 
turn in full force — for it must be something worse. 

If her mother had only written it and not left it 
unspoken for her to be burdened by it — the dread 
of it might be worse than the thing itself. When 
the dread became overpowering, she fell on her 
knees and repeated “Notre Pere.” 

“ Our Father ” was the only prayer she had ever 
prayed : it was a charm to ward off evil more than 
a prayer. What had any of the petitions to do 
with the “ revelation ” ? “ Give us this day our 

daily bread ” — did that touch it ? 

“Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven:” 
had that anything to do with it? 

“For thine is the kingdom and the power and 
the glory;” surely her trouble was not in his 
kingdom, or his power, or his glory. 


18 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


But it was all the prayer she had ever learned, 
and it was more familiar in French than Eng- 
lish, because the girls always repeated it with 
bowed heads at the opening of every morning 
session. 

She had not dared read the letter to Madame ; 
it would be putting the dreadful thing into words; 
it would be more real and near if they should 
speak of it together. 

It could not be worse than when Lucy died in 
her arms alone, and that had not killed her; she 
wished it had — she wanted to go with Lucy, 
and then she would not have to go through this 
—alone. She always had to go through every- 
thing alone. 

She would have to go to America alone. There 
was no one there she knew excepting Mr. Dekker, 
and she had seen him but twice, and did not care 
to see him again. He was slow and silent, and had 
such stern black eyes, and such heavy black eye- 
brows that they hid his eyes— all but the sharp 
light of them : so much black hair, too, piled up on 
his head and hanging down behind his ears. If 
American professors were all like that — but Long- 
fellow was not. 

Her two enthusiasms were her mother, — her 


ISOBEL. 


19 


beautiful, bright, handsomely dressed mother, and 
the American poet, Longfellow. 

The one thing that drew her to Perez Dekker 
was that he had once seen Longfellow in a book 
store in Boston. 

Had he spoken to him ? Or touched him ? 

No, nor had he heard him speak. 

The band was playing again. A great wave of 
home-sickness rolled over her; she staggered back- 
ward and held out her hand blindly; she was 
home-sick for the home she had never had. This 
home was also an “ideal.” 

The girls were full of enthusiasm about their 
homes. The three American girls were wild to 
go home when their father came for them, and 
Harriet Menzies had written once from London, to 
say that home was dearer and sweeter than she 
had ever dreamed. 

Last year her nearest approach to being at home 
was a week on board the ship at Hamburg, and 
the year before she had travelled with her mother 
in Germany and Switzerland. 

She had forgotten these two times when she 
said that she never had “ between times.” 

“0, mamma,” she had pleaded with tears, “if I 


20 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


might only go with you sailing everywhere, and 
having gay times with you.” 

The same hurried response she had heard be- 
fore: “You know that is impossible.” 

But she could never understand how it was 
“impossible.” 

How could her father be too poor when her 
mother had so many handsome dresses, and dia- 
monds on her fingers and in her ears ? 

She had told her mother that she was as beauti- 
ful as Madame Recamier and as fascinating as 
Madame de Stael. 

“ I shall always have one admirer, even when I 
am old,” was the pleased and laughing reply. 

“The girls said you must be my stepmother; 
that you were too young to be my mother,” said 
Isobel proudly, and I told them you were my own 
mother.” 

“You do not look like me, Bel.” 

“ I would scorn to spoil you by being a poor 
imitation. Am I all like papa ? ” 

“No, you are not at all like papa.” 

Isobel brought herself back from the shadow of 
the blindness and attempted to listen to the music ; 
she had heard her mother play the air on the old 
piano at school. The home-sickness swept over her 


ISOBEL, 


21 


again. It was almost worse than the dreaded 
revelation. 

“ Bel, how can you stand there and be so idle ?” 

“ Is thinking idleness ?” she retorted, saucily. 

“ The worst kind, if the thoughts are folly,” said 
Madame, wisely. 

“My thoughts are always folly — they never 
come to any good,” muttered Isobel. 

Oftentimes her attitude was listlessness itself, 
but it was not that she was idle or afraid of hard 
work or hard study. 

Mademoiselle had spoken to her father about 
retaining her as a teacher : “In all my teaching I 
never had a young lady so original,” she said. 

Bel smiled at the remark, and the expressive 
gesture that accompanied it; she said to herself 
that Mademoiselle had not the least idea what 
“original” signified. 

“You have made her English, not American,” 
was the growling response. “ I shall have to send 
her to America for that.” 

What else could Monsieur expect with English 
and French teachers, and with Madame, who had 
been English three hundred years ? 

“I have as good as I expected, Mademoiselle; 
the girl will pass; you have not wasted my money.” 


22 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ The girl will pass !” It was the single word 
of commendation she had ever heard from her 
father’s lips. 

When a child, one day, she had dropped her 
head in Madame’s lap with one of her outbursts of 
tears, u O Madame, praise me.” 

“ Praise is bad for little girls,” reproved Madame. 

“I like bad things, then, she murmured, ga- 
thering her forlorn little self together. 

She must be “ spoiled,” because they all said so ; 
but too much praise, or too much tenderness had 
not done it. Perhaps she had done it herself by 
having her own way whenever she could — some- 
times even by faleshood or deceit. Her gray eyes 
looked so clear and true, as true as if no lie had 
ever shadowed them. But she was not true, she 
deceived every one who had a right to control her; 
she had deceived about lessons and walks and 
books ; how beside could she have her own way ? 

“Bel, is Mr. Dekker the only American face 
you know ?” 

“ Papa and mamma.” 

“Oh, yes, of course.” 

And that small exquisite oil painting — that 
lovely face on ivory ! She had stolen it — she had 
stolen it with an overflowing heart, not caring 


ISOBEL. 


23 


for the consequences. One day, while on ship- 
board for a week in Havre, in looking through her 
father’s desk, in a tiny drawer, she had discovered 
this treasure : the face of a girl about her own age, 
with large gray eyes, and the sweetest mouth, and 
sunniest hair. Coming in suddenly her mother 
had snatched it from her, and angrily asked what 
she was meddling for ? 

“ Tell me who it is! Just tell me who it is,” 
she pleaded eagerly, pressing it to her lips. 

“ No one you ever heard of.” 

“ Does she belong to papa ?” 

u She does not belong to any one — she is dead,” 
said Mrs. Kellinger, ungraciously. 

“ Did you know her?” 

“ She was my cousin; she has been dead years.” 

“ What was her name ? ” 

“ Her name was Hope Devoe,” replied Mrs. Kel- 
linger, dropping it in Isobel’s lap. 

“ Why does papa have her ? Why do not you ?” 

“ I did not know your father had it.” 

“ If he would only give it to me. I do not dare 
ask him ; will you ask him, mamma ?” 

“ No. Put it away — shut that drawer. I do not 
believe that he remembers that he has it.” 

“ Did she do some dreadful thing that you have 


24 


ISOBEL S BETWEEN TIMES . 


to hide it ?” She was still pressing it fondly 
between her palms. As she spoke she lifted it and 
laid the face close to her cheek. She had found 
her ideal girl at last. Why was it that the face 
was not strange ? Had she ever seen her in a 
crowd ? Had she dreamed of her ? 

“How tiresome you are, to-day! You are al- 
ways raving about something. It is very school- 
girlish to fall in love with a picture.” 

“I am in love with it,” Isobel returned. “ Mam- 
ma, she is as pretty as you are.” 

“ Put it in the drawer. I want to see you put it 
in the drawer.” 

“You do not care for it — you hate it, and 
papa has forgotten it ; it does not belong to 
anybody.” 

“ It will some day — when I die. Why do you 
not drop it, as I tell you ? ” 

“ I cannot,” touching it again with her lips. “ I 
want it. May I have it ? May I ask papa ? ” 

“Yes, if you choose to make him angry.” 

“You know I will not choose that,” Isobel an- 
swered, sorrowfully. 

The painting was laid away in the drawer, but 
that evening, while her father and mother were 
calling upon a friend, the desk was opened, 


ISOBEL. 


25 


the secret drawer pulled out, and the lovely face 
again pressed to Isobel’s lips and cheek. 

This time she could not let it go. She slipped 
it into her pocket, and there it stayed. More than 
one night she had fallen asleep with it pressed be- 
tween her cheek and the pillow. 

“I want some one like her,” she said often. a 0 
Hope Devoe, what made you die ? ” 

That happened three years ago. The theft had 
not been discovered. How could it be, when her 
father did not care for it, and her mother hated it? 

“ Is Devoe an English name ? ” questioned 
Isobel. 

“ De Voe ! I never heard it.” 

But Madame had heard so few things that her 
questioner was not surprised. 

The band had ceased. The people were throng- 
ing the streets. Still she lingered at the window. 
While she was waiting she might as well be stand- 
ing at that window as doing any other thing. 

The days had been endless since that letter 
came. 

“ Bel, what are you doing ? ” came sharply from 
the lips that just then were closed over a bit of 
worsted. 

“ Looking,” said undisturbed Bel. 


26 


I SO BE US BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ I shouldn’t think you could see anything new 
out of that window, if you should stand there a 
hundred years.” 

At that moment she was seeing something new. 

A short gentleman, with a sea-browned and sun- 
burned face, a foreigner evidently, not an English- 
man. He must be an American, and more than 
probably a sea-captain. He had her father's tread, 
his broad shoulders, his slim waist that did not 
seem to belong to the shoulders. The breath of 
the ocean was about him. He was accompanied 
by two oddly dressed girls ; the younger was hold- 
ing his hand, the elder with her observant man- 
ner, seemed to be gathering material for her note 
book. They must be her father’s countrymen, the 
kind of people she would jog against in New 
York. 

They went on talking eagerly and gazing 
around until they had left the square and turned 
into the narrow street at the right. The gentle- 
man stopped before the church door and pointed 
down toward the wharves; the girls listened and 
looked. He took a bundle from the elder girl and 
walked on, leaving them standing together before 
the church. 

After a moment they entered the church to- 


ISOBEL. 


27 


gether. She felt inclined to follow them to listen 
to their remarks. The older girl was about her 
own age, and the younger was as old as Lucy 
would have been by this time. How strange to 
think of herself and Lucy sauntering around with 
their father ! 

What would their American eyes think of the 
ancient buildings — America was so new — of the 
burning candles, the figures kneeling on the pave- 
ment, the bowed heads in the confessional boxes ? 

Would America be as strange to her as this land 
must be to these two girls? In America would 
she meet soldiers and Custom House officers in the 
•street ? If she should walk out in New York and 
stray out into the country, as she had yesterday in 
the dusk with Madame, would she come to low 
cottages thatched with straw; through the open 
doors would she see the fathers and mothers eat- 
ing their evening meal of fruit and bread, or sit- 
ting at the doors talking and smoking as they 
watched the children at play, dark-eyed little chil- 
dren with caps or black nets upon their heads ? 

There must be green trees and clover fields out- 
side of New York. Would she find anything like 
the blue Seine, covered with sloops, and the hills 
of Normandy opposite, in the mist? Was the 


28 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


Hudson like it — and what was opposite, like her 
hills? 

Madame’s English friends sang Gentle Annie and 
Old Dog Troy ; even if these songs were English, 
she might hear them in America. Those girls 
could tell her about America: perhaps they knew 
a girl named Devoe; perhaps they knew Perez 
Dekker, or her grandfather. 

“ Bel !” with an impatient intonation. 

Bel’s frown was equally impatient ; it was her 
only reply. 

The room, the sunshine, the artificial flowers, 
the old lady’s head, her tones and rebukes were all 
like home to her ; but what was “ home” like? 
Would those girls be happy in these rooms? 
Would they be patient and still, and take what 
came next ? Would they want to know what to- 
morrow held for them ? Would they be brave, if 
they had to hear some dreadful thing? 

How would they feel if they had the loveliest 
dream of a mother, and were always awaking to 
find her neither real nor near ? 

What report had Perez Dekker taken of her ? 
How could they be “ kind ’’ to her when they find 
out all she was ? Would she ever have to deceive 
her grandfather ? 


ISOBEL. 


29 


Perez Dekter had written a description of her to 
his sister ; but it was years before Isobel’s eyes fell 
upon it; Jue Dekker had read it to her old grand- 
father. 

“She is a plump little creature, perhaps more 
human than some people may care to manage ; 
eyes gray and round, like some children’s you 
have seen; they lift themselves to you and do not 
fall until something fills them too full. Eye-lashes 
and eyebrows wonderfully dark in contrast to the 
mass of hair that is not gold, or brown, or red ; her 
cheeks have no color until she speaks, and then it 
" comes faintly and then brightly; her words tumble 
over each other as if impatient of the restraint of 
utterance. So much for what your ladies care to 
know ; as for the rest, she’s a poor throbbing little 
soul in bondage, doing her worst while she longs 
to do her best; as bitter as a girl can be, suffering 
under some wrong that she dimly comprehends; 
angry with all the world for keeping her out of 
her inheritance. 

“ Her tones, her resistances, her hands out- 
stretched in pleading, or in self-defence, her defi- 
ances, and her little conciliatory ways, all speak in 
the same strain : “ There is something for me 
somewhere, and nobody gives it to me.” 


30 


ISO BEES BETWEEN TIMES. 


The girl would not have understood this any 
more than she understood herself; she only knew 
that she was wretched, and nobody cared, that some- 
thing hard was coming to her, and there was no 
one to make it easier. Mademoiselle had spoken 
of the dear Lord once when her little sister died, 
but where was he ? 

“ Bel, your blue muslin needs to be darned.” 

If she were choking to death that blue muslin 
would need to be darned all the same ; she tossed 
her hair back with an impatient exclamation, and 
then laughed. 

It struck Madame, obtuse as she was, that the 
laugh was rather dreary ; but she took the blue 
muslin and darned the long criss-cross rent with 
many exquisite stitches; darning was one of Mad- 
ame’s accomplishments, and by dint of bribing, 
scolding and coaxing, Bel had become a proficient 
in the same housewifely art. 

Beks fingers had been educated more fully than 
her heart or her intellect. 

That afternoon, pretty Lizette, on the floor below, 
came up the stone steps with a letter for Miss 
Isobel Kellinger. Bel snatched it, tore it open, and 
ran to her own room; but there was no need of 
secrecy in perusing the one small sheet, or in hold- 


ISOBEL. 


31 


ing herself tightly together, to brace herself for 
what it might contain. 

The stay in Liverpool might be protracted. Her 
father had lost his command of the American ship. 
He was seeking other employment; if he could not 
find that he would be forced to take a mate’s berth. 
He had lost in an unfortunate speculation the small 
earnings of his many years upon the ocean ; he 
was a poor man, and his daughter was a poor girl; 
she must hold herself in readiness to go to Amer- 
ica as soon as affairs were more settled, and then it 
was signed, 4 4 Your loving mamma, Isobel Kel- 
linger.” 

Was this what she had dreaded night and day ? 
Was this all ? The relief was so great that she 
burst into hysterical tears ; then hugged herself 
with both arms and laughed. “ 1 am to stay here 
and wait — and then go to America.” 

“Then this is one of your between times,” said 
Madame encouragingly. 

She would like to thank the dear Lord if she 
knew how. This was all: that her father was 
poor, that she was poor ; she had always felt 
poor, that was nothing new or sad. Her ward- 
robe had been supplied with shabby dresses for 
which her mother had no use ; she had learned un- 


32 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


der Madame’s tuition to make them over for herself, 
and her few francs of spending money had been 
hoarded like so much precious gold; her question 
in purchasing had never been, “ Do I need it ?” In- 
stead she had asked: “ How can I do without it?” 
And this rigid economy had extended to the mi- 
nutest detail of her dress. Madame prided herself 
upon the darns in her stockings, declaring that not 
a maiden in France could boast as many. 

Ten minutes later, with the letter in her hand, 
the radiant girl danced into Madame’s presence, 
singing : 

u ^ ?rQ t°° h a ppy 7 — Pm too happy — 

Pm too happy for anything.” 

“Good news?” asked Madame, not at all start- 
led, for the girl’s moods were as many as the hours 
of the day. 


II. 


OYER THE SEA. 

If Isobel had stolen into that long apartment 
that rainy afternoon of a chilly August day, and 
found the fire alone by itself, with old Malt curled 
up on the hearth-rug, blinking at the flames, with 
not a sound beside the sound of the tall French 
clock on the mantel, what would she have guessed 
about the occupant or occupants of the room ? 

There must be two, there might be more. Who 
made this room a home ? Were they old or 
young, both ladies, or was one a gentleman ? 
Were they narrow and selfish, or many-sided? 

Only a lady would pet that handsome Maltese 
cat. He had the air of a prince in the cat king- 
dom. He was as much at home as the rug on 
which he lay, or the fire that now and then 
snapped out near his paws. A wicker work- 
basket on a wicker standard, decided that a lady’s 

fingers found business in that room ; but whether 

3 ( 33 ) 


34 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


she were matron or maiden, the fancy knitting, 
the spools of silk, the gold thimble, the skein of 
cream wool did not decide; not even the hem- 
stitched handkerchief with a frayed corner wait- 
ing to be mended. She might be mother or she 
might be maiden. Plants on green shelves reached 
from the carpet to the ceiling before one of the 
wide windows; plants well watered, with shining 
leaves, and thrifty buds. The fuchsia was hang- 
ing with bloom, on the arbutilon were thirty-seven 
yellow bells. Some one loved these plants. The 
many pictures above each other, and under each 
other, were fine engravings, foreign scenes, not so 
foreign to Isobel’s eyes, but foreign when one 
looked out of the window. They did not belong 
to the stretch of country that started from the 
law r n, and ran away and up to the purple line that 
might be hills, through the misty afternoon. They 
belonged to the side of the w^orld that Isobel had 
lived on. There were faces that were foreign as 
well. One did not imagine that the face bent 
over that sewing-basket, had eyes like that Italian 
girl, or the expression of that Greek mother. 
The children in the daisy field, how r ever, might 
be children who lived across the way in that 
white farm-house, and the daisy field might 


OVER THE SEA. 


35 


certainly be viewed from one of these wide 
windows. 

The carpet — Isobel’s taste would have rejoiced in 
that carpet — a rich Brussels, with a ground of 
white sprinkled over with flowers of every hue, 
mingled with sprays and vines of green; but for 
that the room would not have been luxurious. 
The lounging chairs were somewhat shabby, the 
rugs were of home workmanship, and had the air 
of being made to save the carpet ; the brown and 
gray table-cover was darned in several places ; 
Isobel’s eye would have taken note of those darns. 

There were two book-cases, crowded with books, 
that had not been printed within the present cen- 
tury, but the literature scattered about, was all of 
recent date ; magazines, pamphlets, newspapers, 
story-books in paper; in German, French, English. 
There was a cabinet containing coins upon a small 
mahogany table in a corner; a case of stuffed birds 
stood in another corner. The room reminded one 
of a museum ; the owner evidently must have all 
his possessions about him. 

Isobel would have stood in appreciative delight, 
but she would have been too shy to speak, had the 
door been suddenly opened and master or mistress 
appeared. 


36 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


Everything in the room had been placed there 
for love of it ; it was a room to be real in, to be 
one’s own self, even if that self were real bad. 

The master and mistress were themselves to 
each other and to their neighbors. The only good 
some people found in Jue Dekker was that she 
was not a sham. Her wickedness was unmistaka- 
bly natural and real. I do not know that many 
people called her wicked, she was simply natural ; 
she had made herself out of herself. 

44 1 am as I was born,” was frequently on her 
lips. She had forgotten that she could become 
worse than she was born. 

Six o’clock, and dusk, this rainy August after- 
noon, and no one has come in. There are sounds 
■% 

in the distant kitchen ; a quick light tread, and a 
shrill voice pitched high, singing: 

“ Come, my soul, and stretch thy wings, 

Thy better potion trace.” 

Anastasia declared that she knew all the hymn 
book through, as well as all the Bible. 

A square room, called the pump-room, and an- 
other square room containing a large closet, sepa- 
rated the kitchen from “Miss Jue’s room.” Miss 
Jue sometimes wished the walls of separation were 


OVER THE SEA. 


37 


twice as many, especially when Anastasia waxed 
loudly fervent in her hymns. 

The house, from the road, has a long, many win- 
dowed appearance. There are piazzas front and 
back. There are eight small rooms on the second 
floor, and five of similar size upon the third. The 
kitchen, with its second story, was an after- 
thought, as were several of the piazzas. Four of 
the rooms upon the second floor are furnished, 
none at all upon the third. The unfurnished 
rooms are used as store-rooms and lumber-rooms. 
Every room was furnished with people and things 
years ago, before Jue and Perez were summoned 
east to visit their great-grandfather, but somehow, 
they do not know quite how, everybody has gone, 
taking something, and the brother and sister are 
alone, as they have always wished to be, keeping 
house for each other. 

Jue and Perez are the latest comers. They 
came to stay when grandmother died, three years 
ago; he from his studies and his wanderings, and 
she from her school. They came at first, because 
they were sent for; and then they stayed because 
it seemed the best and only thing to be done, 
he having accepted a professorship in the city 
twenty-seven miles distant, and she having quar- 


38 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


relied with her principal, after working with her 
twenty-th^ee hard years. 

“Come and do nothing, Jue,” Perez had written 
to her. The doing nothing this afternoon, had 
consisted in a call over the way. She was inter- 
ested to hear something more about “ that girl.” 
At six o’clock she picked her way across the 
muddy road, holding up her dress and steadying 
the silk umbrella over her head. 

The glow of the fire greeted her, for Anastasia 
had remembered it at the last moment, and the 
fragrance of tea was abroad. Miss Dekker loved 
her cup of tea and this fire. 

As she stood in the doorway, divested of her 
wraps, our sensitive Isobel would not have loved 
her. I think she would have fled through another 
doorway. She was very tall, taller than her 
brother, with a figure so thin and flat, as to sug- 
gest a paper doll. Isobel’s impression would have 
been: “She sees through you, and she has no 
compassion.” 

Her complexion was sallow, her small brown 
eyes deep set, her hair brushed smoothly down at 
each side of her face, hiding her ears, instead of 
changing to white, had dried and died, turning to 
dingy brown : her cheeks were sunken, her chin 


OVER THE SEA. 


39 


long, with the polished skin drawn tightly over it; 
in every line of her face was written the history 
of her half-century of unloved and unloving life. 

They who love are born of God. Jue Dekker 
had never loved, in her life, as one loves who is 
born of God. 

I wish I did not have to tell you that she be- 
lieved herself to be a Christian. She read the 
Bible every day, and prayed long prayers night 
and morning; but she was an idolater, — she wor- 
shipped herself. 

Her dress fitted to perfection. She made a per- 
fect fit of everything she touched; the material was 
cashmere, the color dark green. Inches of sallow 
neck, with prominent veins, rose above the narrow 
linen collar ; linen cuffs gave a finish to the sleeves ; 
her hands were long, thin, and full- veined; they 
were hands that could grasp and hold on. 

“0, my fire,” she exclaimed, in the tone of some 
women caressing a child. 

Miss Dekker did not love children ; she said she 
hated them. 

The fire was something to come back to ; she 
had so little to go out to, or to come back to. 

“ I might have been a happy woman, but for — ” 
she thought every day. 


40 


I SO BE VS BE 7 WEEN TIMES . 


She never thought “ but for myself.” 

In fifteen minutes her brother would drive in at 
the wide gate, and tea must be on the table ; it 
would become cold before he tasted it, but he 
liked to see it hot in his cup. 

Perez would be thirty-one on this October, and he 
was rapidly falling into old bachelor ways. Beside 
the round table scattered over with books there 
was another round table, which served as breakfast, 
dinner and tea table. The china was kept in an 
old-fashioned sideboard, the table cloths and nap- 
kins were laid away in drawers in the closet at 
the right of the fireplace. 

Miss Dekker moved around briskly, setting the 
tea table, glancing alternately at the clock and out 
the window down the road. Her brother was 
somebody to come back to. Anastasia brought in 
the tea as Perez sprang out on the piazza; his 
coat was pulled up about his ears, his slouched hat 
drawn down over his eyes; the rain had been 
chilled to sleet. 

“Well,” exclaimed Miss Jue, in a brisk tone 
of welcome. The outside world came into her 
days with him; not that she was so much inter- 
ested of this outside world, as she was often 
weary of her inside world. This brother and 


OVER THE SEA. 


41 


sister exchanged no sentimental greetings or fare- 
wells; she always kissed him when he started 
out upon a tour, and when he returned ; she 
said if there were any nonsense in him her 
course of training had crushed it out; he would 
marry his wife from common sense, and not 
from foolish sentiment. 

Old Mr. Devoe told his neighbors that Miss 
Dekker was the man of the two. 

“ Perez.” 

His tea had been growing cold fifteen minutes, 
and he had not tasted it ; he was eating his supper 
with a book open beside his plate. 

He raised his eyes as soon as he pleased (which 
was in seven minutes after she had spoken), in re- 
cognition of her breaking the silence ; lie was five 
years younger when he raised his eyes. 

“ I learned something this afternoon.” 

“ I congratulate you,” he said, with scarcely per- 
ceptible sarcasm. 

“ It isn’t anything to be congratulated upon,” 
she answered tartly, “ it is only something about 
that girl ; that French girl.” 

Miss Dekker arched her right eyebrow and 
kept it arched while she was talking. Perez be- 
trayed no interest in the subject. 


42 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ I wish you would let me give you some hot 
tea. ,r 

“This is hot enough. Where have you been ? ” 

“Over the way. Who else knows anything 
about her ? ” 

“Oh, you mean Isobel Kellinger.” 

“I was not aware that you were interested in 
any other girl . 9 

“ I am — in every girl and every boy that holds 
any promise. I gave a lecture to forty girl 
teachers one day, and I was interested in every 
one of them.” 

“He felt like talking to-day; he showed me a 
portrait of his daughter, her mother.” 

“ Isobel says she is wonderful.” 

“Isobel— as you call her — has never seen her.” 

“Not seen her own mother!” he exclaimed, in- 
credulously. 

“ She has seen her step-mother. That woman is 
no more her mother than I am.” 

“That explains it, then. 1 am glad to have it 
explained. I did not like to think a mother could 
be no more to a daughter than she has been.” 

“Where have you lived all your life?” she 
asked, scornfully. “ Did you get your ideas of 
mothers from poetry?” 


OVER THE SEA . 


43 


“ I have seen some mothers that I would like to 
put into poetry. But why doesn’t the girl know 
it?" 

“ She will before she comes home. The old man 
has had a letter from his son-in-law, scape-grace 
that he is. He ran away with Hope Devoe — or 
she ran away with him. Her father had forbid- 
den him the house. She died and left the little 
girl, not three months old. It’s a bad story, but 
she deserved it: girls always do, and usually get 
it when they take their lives into their own hands. 
And then, indecently soon, he married a cousin of 
his wife’s, Isobel Devoe, and they carried the child 
off to France, and left her in a boarding-school; 
and that’s the whole shameful story.’’ 

“ It is a shameful story," he exclaimed, hotly. 
“Poor little Bel ! ’’ 

“And now he has borrowed money from the 
owners of the ship without their knowledge, and 
speculated with it and lost it. They have cast 
him adrift. The old man is thankful they have 
done nothing worse. He had the impudence to 
apply to him for money. He writes that he is too 
poor to take care of Isobel any longer; that his 
wife was jealous of her, and would never let him 
show any fondress for her; that she must either 


44 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


do something for herself, or be sent to the old man. 
Tho old man is only too glad.” 

u Naturally. But it will break her heart to 
learn that that woman is not her mother. 

“ When she has treated her so ? ” said Miss Jue, 
incredulously. 

“ Bel thinks it is her father who has kept them 
apart. The girl responds to love as a flower does 
to the sunshine; you understand that. Love her, 
and her life is in your hands.” 

u All very pretty,” responded Miss Jue s cold 
voice. “But she will have something else to do 
if she comes into that house. The old man is sick 
and poor.” 

Perez stirred his tea and looked into it, thinking 
of the softened and hardened little creature stand- 
ing before him, telling him the story of her school 
days. 

U I wonder if she could teach? he said, after a 
while. 

“Teach! You think a girl is made to study. 
Does she know anything ? ” 

“ Her knowledge is not available, I suspect. 
She knows French.” 

Miss Dekker had never taught beyond fractions 
and United States’ history. She despised the 


OVER THE SEA . 


45 


knowledge and the method of the “ girl teachers ” 
to whom Perez had lectured. 

“ She will run off like her mother ; we needn’t be 
too tender towards such blood as she inherits. 
Such a father, too ; no better than an adventurer. 
I should let her alone.” 

“■You will change your mind when you see her.” 

“ I am not weak enough to be overcome by a 
pretty face,” was the scornful reply. 

“ Her face is not her attraction. She has made 
her face by being herself, as you and I have.” 

“ Why should she not have a shock and be un- 
happy? Why should she be shielded, any more 
than the rest of us ? I never had any one to keep 
shocks from falling on me. Let her learn what 
life is — to other folks. Not with young bitterness 
like Isobel’s, but the bitterness of many bitter 
years.” 

“ What is life to other folks ?” he questioned 
lightly. 

“ Something a little better than death, because 
most people prefer it.” 

“ Do not talk so to her ; I beg of you.” 

“ I shall talk to her as I do to other folks.” 

Taking his book to the fire, giving old Malt a 
kick by the way, something he had never done be- 


46 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


fore; his sister noticed it, and laid it up against 
him and against Isobel Kellinger. 

Perez never quarrelled with his sister; he was too 
much the gentleman ; Miss Jue never quarrelled 
with her brother, she was too much afraid of him. 
Keeping her eyes upon her work, she darned the 
frayed corners of her handkerchief, folding it up 
and laying it aside with the feeling that it was one 
more thing done ; getting things done, was the 
supreme pleasure of Miss Dekker’s life. 

“How few words the average man needs to 
express himself,” exclaimed the Professor of En- 
glish Literature, tossing his book across to the 
table. 

“You are a fool if you think a man ever does 
express himself,” remarked his sister. 

“ But not a fool if I believe it of a woman,” he 
laughed. “ I say, Julia, what makes you so cross?” 

“That girl,” giving her thread a twitch. “Why 
shouldn’t she see the hard side of life ? Why 
have you all got to sympathize and smooth things 
for her ? Her father is poor, as well as a rascal ; 
why shouldn’t she go into somebody’s kitchen ? I 
hate to see young things growing up and getting 
the best of things.” 

“She has not had any of them yet. Her soul 


OVER THE SEA. 


47 


was starved in that school, her mind fed on stuff, 
and her heart has always been hungry — if that is 
what you mean by the best of things/’ 

Miss Jue was silent. She would not define 
what she meant; youth, a fair amount of beauty, 
opportunity — The best of things to her were 
what she had not. Her time was past, and she 
grudged that time to every girl she met or heard 
of; the blossom of girlhood and the bloom of 
womanhood were as canker eating into her soul ; 
the face bent over her work was not encouraging 
to further expostulation. Conversation between 
these two always broke into abruptness. Each 
was beginning to feel, brother and sister as they 
were, that they had nothing in common beside 
the morning and evening meals. To keep her 
brother from thinking of a wife was among her 
chief aims; every day he was thinking more of 
this possible wife, because of the attitude of her 
life towards his life. Prosper Dekker, his dearest 
friend, believed that Perez, like the young man 
whom Jesus loved, lacked only his giving up 
himself and following him. 

He reached for another book, and held it in his 
hand, while he gazed straight into the fire; she 
twitched at her thread, then broke it, and at 


48 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


last pushed her sewing aside for work that would 
not be so trying to her eyes. What right had her 
eyes to fade and grow dim ? What right had 
she to sink into nothingness, while everything was 
in the world to be had? What good had ever 
come to her by Bible reading or her prayers ? 

Her reverie was interrupted by a laugh; old 
Malt was on Perez’s knee, and he was stroking his 
back. 

“ I was thinking of those girls' faces to-day, 
when I was telling them that some professor could 
demonstrate to his class in half a minute, that a 
student is not a rhinoceros.” 

“ I could do it in less time than that.” 

“ Please do it then.” 

“ I prefer to hear his demonstration.” 

“ He said that if any student were a rhinoceros, 

' some rhinoceros must be a student ; but we know 
that no rhinoceros is a student, therefore it is clear 
that no student is a rhinoceros.” 

Miss Jue muttered something in a harder tone 
than usual, pushed her work into the basket, and 
said good-night. Their evenings together were as 
dismal to her as to him; he was so gracious and 
bright to every one else, why could he not be gra- 
cious and bright to her? He would take no 


OVER THE SEA. 


49 


trouble for her, because she was not young, or 
learned, or handsome. 

Her good-night met with a half-intelligible ut- 
terance; Miss Jue was not so wrong in this con- 
clusion, as in some others; Perez did not give 
half his best self to her. 

She was old in his eyes, and ignorant; even 
ugly, when she was “ cross.” Had he not known 
that she was his sister, he would have disliked her 
and probably made light of her eccentricities. 

His mother he did not remember; his father 
had been the one love and admiration of his life. 
When his sister said to herself that he was selfish 
and self-seeking, she spoke another truth ; she 
saw through him as easily as through others. Jue 
Dekker was the only person she knew whom she 
did not “see through.” 

There was no light burning in the Jiall; that 
was an extravagance her housewifely soul ab- 
horred ; the light that fell over the narrow stair- 
way, came from the candle in her hand. A glow 
of heat met her as she opened her bedroom door; 
heat was her luxury, as thinking was her brothers. 
Their luxuries kept them alive. 

Setting the candle on the bureau, she went to 

the stove to hold her hands above it, and to feel 
4 


50 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


the sensation of heat through and through before 
she did the next thing. 

The next thing was to brush her hair, wash her 
hands, and then read a chapter in the Bible ; she 
could not have slept had she not washed her hands 
and read her chapter in the Bible. She was not 
sure that Perez ever read the Bible; she often 
placed one within his reach. The Bible in his 
chamber, she believed, would never have been 
touched, had she not touched it to dust it. Sit- 
ting on a low rush-bottomed rocker, with her long 
hair falling over her back, and the candle held 
close to the book, she read half aloud, in a rever- 
ent monotone, the third chapter of John. She did 
not always read with faith, but she always read 
with common sense. 

A man must be born again to enter the king- 
dom of God; every one must that was born once — 
must be born twice ; a man was born once that he 
might be born twice ; that was the blessedness of 
being born the first time. Yes, she knew that. 
She knew it, but it made no real difference to her; 
she knew that it made no real difference to her. 
It did not make the difference to her that this, or 
something akin to it, made to Marietta Devoe. 
She was not glad that she w T as born the first time ; 


OVER THE SEA . 


51 


she was not glad even if she could not be born the 
second time without being born the first time ; 
she was glad that if she had to be born, that 
she had not been permitted to die — yet ; that she 
had been kept alive somehow until to-night. 
One could not have Heaven without having some- 
thing of earth; but if she had not been born 
at all she would only have lost what she knew 
nothing about — and she was perfectly willing to 
lose that. Perfectly willing to lose Christ, and yet 
be a Christian ! There was a tremor in the long 
fingers that had closed over the book; for the first 
time in thirty years she felt that she was not what 
she had so long called herself — a Christian. She 
had never “ joined the church,” she had not felt 
ready to take that last step, but when some one 
said “Miss Dekker, I wish you were a Christian,” 
she turned away in bitter anger ; was she not as 
good a Christian as this timid little woman who 
had spoken ? 

“ She could not finish her “ chapter ” at once ; 
she sat thinking, the hair falling over her thin 
temples, her cheek resting in her palm ; the 
candlestick in the other hand was held unsteadily. 

Anastasia closing her door two rooms away, 
roused her. She finished the chapter mechanically, 


52 


I SOB ELS BETWEEN TIMES. 


wondering where Enon and Salim were, not daring 
to go deep into the teachings; it was easier to 
speculate when John the Baptist left off speaking/ 
and whether the Lord said all these things to Nico- 
demus, or whether John the Writer had written 
from inspiration. This speculative way of reading 
the Bible was more to her taste; some people, never 
thought about the places or the people, but she 
always looked them up : she must look up Salim 
and see what the name of the “ much water,” was; 
some people did not care to go deep into these 
things, but she had the intellect of a student. 

That little woman who had spoken to her com- 
ing out of church had asked the minister in the 
Bible class where it was in the Old Testament 
that Nicodemus might have learned about Christ. 

She had given her a look and answered herself. 
The woman was as ignorant as Nicodemus himself. 
And she had presumed to speak to her. 

She closed the Bible and knelt to pray ; but the 
words did not come readily to-night; she thought 
of Bel Kellinger when she prayed for all the 
world, but her heart did not soften toward her; she 
ended with the Lord’s Prayer, and believing that 
she had prayed because she had obeyed the Lord’s 
command: “After this manner, therefore, pray ye.” 


OVER THE SEA. 


53 


“ I never felt so stirred up before ; it’s that 
French girl coming, and the way Perez behaves 
about her.” 

After extinguishing the candle the room seemed 
alive with the darkness. She shivered and touched 
the first thing that came within reach of her hand; 
to be born once, and not to be born again, where 
were you ? 

The woodbox was piled with wood. There were 
bits of kindling at one side ; she felt down for them 
and pulled them out, raking the embers together 
and kindling them to a blaze; when the wood was 
well burning she left the stove door open and 
went back to bed, laying with her face toward the 
light. She was born ; and she must be born again- 
Perez was moving about in the room below. For 
the first time she was glad that he never came up- 
stairs till midnight. 

He arose as soon as he was left alone and began 
his usual saunter about the long room. . It had 
been two rooms before he had the partition taken 
down, and the archway made between ; the 
atmosphere became clearer as soon as his sister 
ceased to breathe it with him. He straightened 
himself, lifted his head and threw out his arms as if 
to assure himself that some invisible burden had 


54 


I SOB EDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


been cast off. The two hours before midnight 
were his “ vacation ; ” he might read any book he 
liked, he might think any thoughts he liked with- 
out regard to to-morrow’s work ; he said that it 
was these two hours as well as his sound sleep, that 
kept him from wearing out ; he could not imagine 
himself the victim of hard work and hard think- 
ing Prosper had become. 

It scarcely grieved him now that his sister’s 
presence was a burden and her absence a felt 
relief ; he had years ago decided that the best 
thing he could do for them both was to leave her 
alone ; to live in peace with her was the thing 
most to be desired, and he would do that if he had 
to bite his tongue in two to keep from speaking. 
He did not know that she was more afraid of his 
eyes than of his tongue. 

She was born hard, and she had had fifty years 
experience in growing harder. 

He paused before the plants. Jue did love 
those plants; and with a lighting of the eyes he 
stood before the children in the daisy field, 
and then he pulled aside the red moreen curtain. 
The house across the way had become a living 
thing to him since he had listened to Bel Kel- 
linger’s voice and felt the influence of her girlish 


OVER THE SEA. 


55 


presence ; heretofore he had felt but the interest 
he felt in every human being in the feeble old 
man and his ministering angel, Marietta Devoe. 

The yellow linen shades at the two end windows 
were down; the light shone through them out 
towards the road, and through the front windows 
out into the deep yard. That light shone till mid- 
night, like his own, for the old man could not 
sleep in the early part of the night, and Miss Devoe 
had to read to him until his head sunk forward 
and he did not give an impatient groan at an 
abrupt pause in the reading. 

Miss Devoe read to him every book that she 
could borrow, far and near ; he seemed to have 
little choice, he said; everything was grist that 
came to his mill ; he could get something out of 
it to think about. 

Marietta Devoe was Mrs. Kellinger’s sister; her 
senior by ten years; a woman, who, like Jue Dek- 
ker, had lived half a century of life ; but in that 
alone like the woman who had been afraid to go to 
sleep in the dark. 

“The girl will have her,” thought Perez; “she 
will be better than no mother. She is narrow, 
but she is warm-hearted and womanly.” 

After a few more turns about the room, he 


56 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES. 


poured a glass of milk from the pitcher on the 
sideboard and then threw himself into one of the 
cushioned lounging chairs, resting his head com- 
fortably and bringing his feet up to the foot-rest 
Jue had worked for his last birthday. 

While his two hours passed in the luxury of 
rest and thinking, the two people over the way 
in the well-warmed and well-lighted room were 
talking to each other, for Mr. Devoe was not 
in a mood to listen to a book to-night ; his 
own life had suddenly grown into more interest 
for him than the most exciting book he had ever 
read. 

He had been wearying for something young; 
there had been nothing young in his life since 
that day more than twenty years ago that he had 
brought from the post-office the newspaper with 
the blue pencil mark among the marriages : Hope 
Devoe to John Kellinger. Two days before Hope 
had begged to visit her cousins, Marietta and 
Isobel; he had let her go reluctantly, for she was 
all he had since her babyhood; he could trust her, 
for had not John Kellinger been away a year 
without writing to her once ? 

“ Marietta, if you ever cross her in anything 1 
will turn you out of doors.” 


OVER THE SEA. 


57 


Marietta brushed the ashes from the stove- 
hearth and looked wise. 

“She has been better off than if your giddy sis- 
ter had the care of her.” 

“ She has certainly been no worse off,” said 
Marietta, advisedly. “ Still, Isobel is only giddy. 
I often wonder what shock will open her eyes. 

“You must get some of her French notions out 
of her head. Do you suppose they have made a 
papist of her ? ” 

“The school is Protestant; giddy as she is, my 
sister would think of that.” 

“ He wouldn’t.” 

“ He has not had his way with the child.” 

“ No ; for he would have sent her to me as soon as 
her mother died. She wanted to keep her, and to 
keep him, and to keep her away from him. But 
she’s mine now!” said the old man fiercely; “noth- 
ing in the law or the gospel will take her from me.” 

“Then you are satisfied at last.” 

“I would be, if I could open her veins, and let 
out every drop of her father’s deceitful, under- 
handed, knavish blood.” 

“ She is your blood, too, Uncle Harold,” with a 
flush in the faded cheeks. 

“You needn’t fear that I’ll forget that.” 


III. 


PROSPER DEKKER. 

It was Sunday morning in Havre. Isobel’s 
grandfather would have asked her how she knew 
it was Sunday, for the busy square had very much 
the appearance of yesterday. Week-day work was 
going on as usual ; the stores were open, and the 
laborers were digging and drawing dirt. Madame 
had no desire to attend church, and when Isobel, 
out of idleness, suggested it, she pleaded headache, 
and said that a chapter from that new English 
novel would soothe her and not excite her. 

“Does church excite you?” inquired Isobel, 
scornfully. “You usually go to sleep.” 

“ I do not like to sleep in church. I feel wicked 
when I think of it at bed- time.” 

“Lizette says an American is to preach there 
to-day. I want to see him. I am not sure that 
I want to hear him. I never listened to a sermon 

in my life.” 

( 58 ) 


PROSPER DEKKER. 


59 


“ It is wicked to go to church and not pray and 
listen. It is better for yon to remain at home, 
and soothe my headache away.” 

Bel did not think it was better, and would not 
consent to read to her until Madame had promised 
to take her to chapel that evening. 

In the evening, when they started out, they 
found the streets, as usual, filled with pleasure 
seekers ; crowds were gathered in the public gar- 
den, and the band was playing its merriest music. 

The windows of every house they passed, even 
to the third story, were filled with plants in luxu- 
riant bloom. Grandfather would have said that 
the plants were one good thing in the wicked city. 

“ I would rather walk out to St. Addresse, than 
go to chapel,” complained Madame. 

“ I would not see my American at St. Addresse,” 
returned Bel, in her wilful voice. “ There is noth- 
ing there beside villas and gardens.” 

“ Your American may not be worth seeing or 
hearing,” said Madame. 

“ If he is not we can leave him,” said Isobel, pla- 
cidly; “I hope he has not eyes and eyebrows like 
Mr. Dekker : I hope he will tell me something my 
heart aches to know.” 

u About America ?” 


60 


IS OB E VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“No,” said Isobel, with the ready scorn that often 
met Madame’s suggestions; “about something 
nearer to me than America; about myself. 1 want 
to know what is the good of my existence.” 

“ Some one else would be eating your bread and 
drinking your coffee if you were not.” 

“I wish some one else had it then; I wish I had 
never been thought of.” 

The chapel was an unpretending building, well 
lighted, and with comfortable seats ; Madame set- 
tled herself in a corner, and prepared herself for a 
nap. Bel’s eyes were intent upon discovering her 
American. 

He would speak English in American fashion, 
like Mr. Dekker; but what was American fashion? 
Her mother spoke rapidly ; — her father — but 
she knew very little of her father’s spoken 
English. 

Two English ladies with whom she had a slight 
acquaintance, came into the seat with her; directly 
in front was seated the gentleman whom Bel had 
decided must be an American ship-master; the 
two girls were with him ; the younger sat beside 
him. Their eyes were alert and keen. For a few 
moments Bel forgot to watch for the preacher in 
her curious study of their faces and attire. Would 


PROSPER DEKKER. 


61 


she become acquainted with girls like them in 
America ? 

The older girl had thoughtful eyes; the younger 
was simply eager. 

Two gentlemen came down the aisle together. 
The taller one Bell recognized as the minister of 
the chapel; the other one, not tall, with bent shoul- 
ders, Jong light hair, gold-rimmed spectacles and 
quick tread, must be the American. She was re- 
lieved to find that he was not at all like her mem- 
ory of Mr. Dekker. She was sure she would stay 
and listen to him; and she thought she would be- 
lieve every word he uttered. 

Madame nudged her, and whispered, “ So small 
and insignificant.” 

Isobel gave her a quick look of annoyance, and 
would not deign to speak. Madame never recog- 
nized the best in anybody ; she never seemed to see 
anything below one’s complexion. There was an 
air of purity and force about this stranger that 
drew Bel to him as she had never been drawn to 
stranger or friend before; she felt something of 
what he was made of; there was an indefinable 
difference between him and Mr. Dekker. 

When he spoke his voice was unlike any voice 
she had ever heard ; she said to herself that it was 


62 


I SOB ELS BETWEEN TIMES. 


clear and strong, and deep and sweet; she hoped 
he sang bass. 

The minister introduced him as Reverend Pros- 
per Dekker of New York. She was so intent in 
thinking of him that she did not catch one word of 
the introduction, not once thinking that anything 
the minister said could have reference to him. 

His first words riveted Bel’s attention. 

“ If I were standing before you in my own name 
to-night, I should crave your forbearance; but I 
have come because I was sent, and I have some- 
thing to give you, because something has been 
given to me. A year ago I lost my strength 
through overwork, and since have not been able 
to preach, not even to study or read. I have 
opened the Bible for one minute or less each day, 
and what I gathered I made note of, and that is all 
I have for you to-night. You remember one time, 
after the Lord had fed the hungry multitude (there 
were men and women, beside children, as there are 
here to-night) ; he bade the disciples gather up the 
fragments, the broken bits, that nothing of what 
he had given them might be thrown away. 

“I have some of the broken bits of my year’s ex- 
periences for you. I dared not trust myself to 
mould them into one loaf; they are very small and 


PROSPER DEKKER . 


63 


insufficient bits of the loaves he broke and blessed 
for me. If I could give them to you as they were 
given to me ! 

“But he can do that. I was very empty when he 
fed me ; to-night I am but the basket that holds the 
fragments. I was in many moods and help came 
for every one ; our moods, our hearts, out of which 
our moods grow, are so alike that I feel sure of 
having something for you, although you have wept 
and suffered, toiled and rejoiced in another land.” 

He took a book from his pocket and began to 
read; many times he dropped it and carried the 
thought further on, seeming to find inspiration in 
the eyes that were fixed upon him. 

The sea-captain moved not a muscle. He listened 
with his eyes half closed, with the intentness with 
which he scanned his charts. Bel flushed until her 
cheeks were burning. If it were all true, was she 
not glad that she had been born to learn it ? 

The beginning was abrupt; he gave them the 
fragment he had picked up first: “ The Lord loves 
to help us as quickly as we can bear to be helped; 
sometimes help might prove to be our greatest 
hindrance, that is, what we call help ; it might be 
worse than to be left alone. 

“We have to be told so little at a time. A lis- 


64 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES. 


tening heart is something more and better than a 
listening mind. The heart often lags behind, 
while the mind is on the alert. How many ques- 
tions a child can ask in one breath: how many 
answers can it understand? I have been won- 
dering, not with idle curiosity, but with reverent 
wonder, how those blind eyes which Christ 
touched, could bear the light, and all that light 
revealed of human faces and human things. 
How they could bear it so suddenly! Was not 
that a part of the miracle ? I know a lady who 
fears she will be dazzled and bewildered by her 
first flash of heaven: and she will be — as much as 
Bartimeus was when his opened eyes looked up 
into the face of the Lord. 

“Just so, just as he did that, he prepares us 
every day to meet our life. The surprises are not 
more than we can bear. Every day our life is 
prepared to meet us. How much faith it would 
require in a human soul to be willing to be ush- 
ered into this world, if he knew the ways of the 
world, but did not know the ways of God. It can 
breathe, it can cry, what else can it do for its 
helpless self? 

u I used to be afraid of shocks . There are no 
shocks to the soul which God leads hour by hour, 


PROSPER DEKKER . 


65 


and from one of his happenings to another of his 
happenings. 

“ How do we know that the eye of the blind man 
was not being made ready to receive the shock and 
suddenness of the light before he was moved to 
call out to the Son of David to have mercy on him ? 

“Before we call, God sometimes answers — be- 
cause of that answer moving in us we are moved 
to cry out. God can work backward as well as 
ibrward. flis time is every time. There is no 
backward or forward in his eternity. Still, if he 
be silent toward you for awhile, be satisfied. In 
his silence he is thinking of you. His not doing 
is most gracious doing. 

“God knew Jeremiah as well as he knows you, 
and yet he was silent toward him once for ten 
days. He tries us, not to prove us to himself, for he 
knew us before we were born (and that is why 
we were born,) but he tries us, is silent or speaks, 
to prove us to ourselves. How can any man 
know himself, unless God reveal to him what is in 
his deceitful heart ? 

“ Do we know our sins as he knows them ? We 
must ask him, if we would have every sin touched 
by his forgiveness, to forgive all the sins he knows 

about, not only the few we know about. 

5 


66 


ISOBEL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Do you know what your greatest sin is ? Think 
over every command you have broken, every law 
of love you have not kept. But it is not that, nor 
all of that. It is not the sins of yesterday that 
will lose your soul, it is the sin of yesterday; it is 
not the sinning, it is the something worse, it is the 
not repenting. Unbelief is the sin of the world;— it 
is your sin. If you have not faith in Christ, how 
can you repent toward God ? 

If you do not believe now — this hour, this min- 
ute, in Jesus Christ, whom God hath sent, you are 
this very minute guilty of the greatest sin in the 
world, and you are already condemned to die for 
your unbelief. You not only sin, but you love to 
sin, which is worse. Every sin has its root in 
unbelief. If you believed in Jesus Christ you 
wouldn’t do that wicked thought in your heart; 
you couldn’t. 

“ Do you desire to know what your life means, 
what the good of it is ? There is only one way to 
discover it: obey Jesus Christ. Obedience brings 
out all the juices of life. Your life will dry up in 
this world and burn up in the next, if you do not 
believe that God has sent his Son into this world 
to save your life. Are you afraid of believing too 
much ? Can you believe more than God is? 


PROSPER DEKKER. 


67 


“ ‘Does God know more than he has put into the 
Bible?’ questioned a child. St. John says the 
world itself could not contain the books, if all 
of Jesus Christ were put into books. 

“ Take God’s words, his promises, his threaten- 
ings, as simply as he has spoken them ; do not be 
wise enough and deep enough to dig into them 
and find they mean something else. 

“Are you longing for an easy time in this world ? 
What kind of a time had Christ? He came to do 
his Father’s will, and that Will was that he should 
be crucified. Was he doing the will of his Father 
that day he was crucified, any more than any other 
day ? Was he not doing his Father’s will asleep 
on the pillow as well as hanging on the cross? 

“Washing the disciples’ feet was not the first- 
humble work he had to do ; a part of his Father’s 
business was in making wooden things for men to 
use. By the word of his power the worlds were 
framed; and yet he came into this world to serve 
an apprenticeship to learn how to frame a barn. 
And yet some people do not know what they 
were born for; they were born to use their hands 
upon the first thing that hand touches. 

“ The Lord made the world out of nothing, but 
he does not expect us to furnish our lives or do his 


68 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


work out of nothing ; the world is made full for our 
using. 4 What is that in thine hand ? ’ he said to 
Moses. It was only a rod, but Moses had it to do 
God’s will with. 

“ Some people believe they live above this life; 
the truth is they live bdoio it; they cannot reach 
up to the small things of God’s making; absent- 
minded spirituality savors too much of selfishness ; 
present-minded spirituality is keeping one’s eyes 
open where God has placed us, and seeing and 
using the things around us. 

44 It is selfish and ease-loving to pray when one 
should be up and on the alert to answer his own 
prayers. It is queer that one . may continue in 
prayer too long, do nothing beside pray ; work in 
the spirit of prayer is mighty praying. 

44 Joshua rent his clothes once and fell to the 
earth, and lay there till eventide ; and when the 
Lord answered him, he said : 4 Get thee up ’ — 4 Up, 
sanctify the people.’ Do something beside pray 
for them ; go to work for them. 

44 It seems — if we look around and study lives and 
living, that some people are sent into this world 
not at all for their own sakes, but just to take care 
of other people — like Jesus. Do you not believe 
they are happy — like Jesus? If there were not 


PROSPER DEKKER . 


69 


such people, some of the rest of us would fare 
badly. 

“ You must wear your life out ; you desire to be 
all used up when you die ; how better can you do 
better than use yourself up in God’s service? 
Do you want to try some other service first? 
Do you want to serve Satan, and see what you get 
for it, and then turn around and try the Lord? 
I’d save some of my best for the Lord if I were 
you. But I beseech you, do not live simply and 
only to save your soul; live to make God glorious 
in the eyes of his children ; don’t you see, if you 
must be selfish about it, that the more glorious you 
make your Father, the more you, his child, have to 
glory in ? 

“ God is so good to me, that I know, even without 
looking into your faces, that he is as mercifully 
good to every one of you. Why not ? — when it 
is not in me but in him. 

“I do not think that I feel as thankful as some 
profess to do, for birth in a Christian land; I am 
so thankful to be born at all that I think I should 
be thankful to be born in any land. If God should 
say to me to-night, knowing what I know of his 
wisdom and loving forethought, ‘ Will you choose 
to be born in America, or in India?’ I think I 


70 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


should say (I hope I should), ‘ Choose for me; thou 
canst take care of me anywhere in the wide uni- 
verse ; thou canst draw me to Thee as easily in one 
part of thy kingdom as in another; I am sure thou 
will not forget me, where thou hast put me.’ 

“But you urge: ‘You may hear of Jesus in a 
Christian land; there are more Bibles, and more 
ministers and churches.’ True ; but I cannot listen 
and believe without the Holy Spirit. I might hear 
and refuse to believe in a Christian land. How 
many do ! How many of you are refusing to be- 
lieve to-night ? 

“And if you refuse to believe in a Christian land, 
is not your condemnation greater than that of the 
soul who never heard his name ? 

“Whether you believe in him, or believe not in 
him in a Christian land, or in a heathen land, the 
grace is all of God; you do not make yourself be- 
lieve; he makes you believe. The Holy Spirit 
knows the way to India, as well as to England, 
and one distance is no greater to him than another. 
The celestial geography is not as mixed up as ours. 
Do you think your own little spot of ground is all 
God is watching over ? Every place is on God’s 
map. 

“Was not Abraham an idolater when God called 


PROSPER DEKKER. 


71 


him ? You have nothing especially to be thankful 
for — unless it is a higher degree of civilization — 
being born in France, than you have for being 
born in Japan — unless you believe in the Lord Jesus 
Christ, who, as yet, has more Bibles and ministers 
in a Christian than in a heathen land. 

“ If it go hard with you, it will go all the harder 
because you were born in a land of light. The 
“Woe” was greater to Bethsaida and Chorazin, 
than to Tyre and Sidon. May not the woe be 
greater to you, than to your black-browed 
brother ? 

“Jesus Christ will come to judge the secrets of 
men. One of the secrets is whether that idolater 
in Japan, who has died since you have been sit- 
ting here listening to me, would have repented 
and renounced his idol worship, had he heard of 
Jesus Christ as many times as you have: whether 
he would go away to-night with a heart as hard 
or as soft as yours? Would you rather be in his 
place or your own, when your judgment day 
comes ? Would you rather be in your own be- 
cause you believe in Christ to-night? Can you 
give the Lord some good reason why you do not 
believe what I say this minute, as I speak ? 

“Christ came down to the earth to tell you 


72 


ISO BEDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


lovely things about his Father; the loveliest is, 
that he so loved the world. 

“ What is God like to you ? 

“I wish I could hear every one of you answer 
that question. There is only one likeness of him 
that has ever been made, or ever will be made. 
He made this one himself — Christ , the image of God . 

“Would you like to ask Christ questions about 
God ? Ask him. The Holy Spirit will answer you. 
You have the same right to ask Christ questions 
that Peter had, or John. 

“Do you want the promises of God? Put your- 
self in a position to claim them, to have a right to 
them, to take them because they are your own. All 
things are yours. The fulness of the earth is for 
you. The fulness of the earth is everything it is 
filled with; everything that God has made and 
taught man how to make. 

“ Some one met a very aged French abbe in the 
Eocky Mountains, and when he asked the old 
minister how he chanced to be in such a wild 
place, so far from home, he replied, that once 
he was very ill, and he fancied he died, and the 
-angels asked him what he thought of the beau- 
tiful world he had left. And then it occurred to 
him that he had been preaching all his life about 


PROSPER DEKKER. 


73 


heaven, and that he knew almost nothing about 
the world God had made and put him in. He de- 
termined he would learn something of the fulness 
of the earth, and for that purpose journeyed to the 
Rocky Mountains. 

“ God will show us heaven by-and-by; now he 
shows us the earth. Like the old abbe, I have 
started out to learn something about the earth, 
and I hope and expect to learn the glory of God, 
through the things he has made. 

“ Do you realize that everything we learn helps 
us to be ? You have given yourself to Christ for 
Christ’s sake. The more you are the more you 
honor him to whom you belong. Your influence 
is worth just as much as you are — and not one 
whit more. 

u People talk about their 4 influence.’ Let them 
make it worth something before they worry about 
it, or delight in it. Your influence is as heavy — 
weighs just as much, as your purity, your faith, 
your devotion, your service, your unselfishness — 
and other people are better judges of that than 
you are. 

“ I have heard it argued that it is selfish to spend 
much time upon one’s self. So it is — too much 
time, — but we must each of us take all the time 


74 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


that we need to make ourselves perfect. I may 
need more time than you. But time spent upon 
one’s self is time spent upon others. To be per- 
sonal — I have spent a great deal of time and 
thought in jotting down these words I am giving 
to you. I trust it is not all for myself. I picked 
up the fragments, and God is using them — all bro- 
ken as they are. If they are not broken from the 
bread he blessed, do not take them — he has some- 
thing better for you. 

“How can you learn if I am telling you the 
truth ? Compare it with the truths Christ has 
spoken. He told his disciples that nothing by any 
means should hurt them. Was Paul ever hurt? 
He shook the viper off into the fire. But he was 
beheaded; was a hair of his head hurt then, or 
did Christ keep his promise ? What does the Lord 
mean by hurt ? Not exactly what you and I mean, 
sometimes. 

“ We think we are hurt if we do not have what 
we are seeking after and working for. The disap- 
pointed man is hurt; the poor man, the sick man ; 
as boys and girls grow up they are hurt — so hurt 
they are sure they can never be healed, if life 
does not hold out to them what they desire most. 

“Do not be afraid ; you will never be hurt until 


PROSPER DEKKER. 


75 


you believe a lie; and tben you will be hurt only 
so long as you believe it. 

“ Are you afraid of God’s truth ; is that why you 
shrink from it and hesitate to believe it ? 

“God’s truth is himself. Christ said: ‘I am the 
Truth.’ When you believe the truth you believe 
Christ, and when you love and obey the truth you 
love and obey him who made the truth true . 

“Is the truth an easy thing to learn ? Does it 
come by guess work, or simply by listening, as you 
are listening to me ? 

“It was his disciples who had been with him 
from the first who had need to have their under- 
standings opened. 

“We are born with shut understandings; noth- 
ing save the touch of the Holy Spirit can open 
their mysterious springs ; even Christ’s words from 
his own lips held not their full meaning until 
he opened their understandings. 

“This declaration means nothing to you, unless 
God teaches you what it means. How do I know 
that you understand the simplest truths ? I do not 
know; how do you know? How do you know 
when you misunderstand ? Did the disciples un- 
derstand after that ? Read the Acts of the Apos- 
tles, and you will know; read their Epistles, and 


76 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


you will know. When people read your acts they 
know how well or how ill you understand the 
Scriptures. 

“ I heard a man say once : 4 There’s nothing 
between God and me.’ 

“ When you kneel down to pray, to unbosom 
yourself to God, do you think there is nothing 
between God and you? ^No one between God and 
you ? 

“ You cannot go to God and be accepted, unless 
Jesus Christ comes between you and God ; the 
only approach to God and nearness to him is Jesus 
Christ between. 

44 Oh, how often I am asked, 4 What is it to 
believe ?’ Believe, and you will know what it is. 
Another question was asked me on the steamer: 

4 Is there any way of knowing, of being sure 
that a thing not promised, is, or not, God’s will ?’ 
I know of but one sure way to find out ; ask him. 
Ask him for what you desire, no matter if it isn’t 
mentioned in the Bible. If he give it, in love and 
patience, it is his will ; if he withhold it, it is not 
his will to give it. 

44 But that does not satisfy you; you would like 
to know to-night. 

44 He that believes does not make haste — even in 


PROSPER DEKKER. 


77 


his praying. There is no need of haste : if we have 
eternal life, have we not time enough for every- 
thing ? 

“ But perhaps it is lack of faith in you ? Per- 
haps it is ; if you had more perfect faith the thing 
you ask might be according to his will to give. 

“ Perhaps so. I would concern myself more about 
the faith than the other thing. I do not believe 
that the other thing is better than the faith ; you 
do, if you persist in praying and desiring the other 
thing more than the faith. 

“Are you willing to have the measure of faith he 
chooses to give you — no more, no less ? 

“ Do you know how much he chooses to give ? 

“ Just the measure you ask and are willing to 
receive. Peter was willing to take enough to 
go to crucifixion. 

“ When trouble comes to you is it your choice ? 
Then it must be the choice of him who chooses to 
send it. 

“ Do you know — are you old enough to have 
learned that we outgrow some trouble ? I am 
speaking to any one of you who thinks that no 
one ever had so much to bear as you have. 

“ A young girl said to me once, that her tooth- 
ache was the worst pain in the world. I think 


78 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


she has outgrown that; another, that earning her 
own living was the greatest hardship in the 
world ; another that nothing was like being misun- 
derstood and never helped. 

“ Christ had the greatest trouble — it was worse 
than the physical suffering of the cross — he had it 
when he cried out: ‘My God, my God, why hast 
thou forsaken me? ’ But remember, trouble or no 
trouble, nothing matters but the will of God. 

“ Think of everything in your life, every separate 
thing that happens to you, everything that you 
do, or that another does that changes anything for 
you ; everything outside of you that moves you into 
motion, or emotion, everything that you desire 
(for, oh, how God educates us through our desires) 
think of all these things as illustrating, making 
pictures of— God’s words. 

“ ‘ I was also upright before him ; I have kept 
myself from mine iniquity.’ David said that. Does 
his life make a picture of the words? David 
sinned ; yes, for he was human : but he made many 
pictures for those words. 

“ Will you choose words from God’s book and il- 
lustrate them ? Begin to-night ; give touches and 
touches as an artist does, till you give the finish- 
ing touch. 


PROSPER DEKKER. 


79 


“ Perhaps the Lord does not expect much of me, 
you urge. How do you know? He expected a 
great deal of Paul, in spite of his thorn in the 
flesh; and from Timothy, made weak by his often 
infirmities. 

“ Every disobedience, though forgiven, makes a 
difference in your life — only God knows how great 
a difference. He alone knows what your life 
would be if you were not continually thwarting 
his best for you. 

“I am watching your faces; many of you are fol- 
lowing every word. Do you remember Mary who 
sat at the feet of Jesus? There was no indolence 
in her sitting still, even if brisk Martha may have 
thought so. She heard his word; but she did 
more than that, she chose the good part. 

“That good part is not a part of your life; it is 
all of it . If you choose to follow Christ you have 
time for nothing else. There will never be one 
hour for you to follow yourself or to follow the 
world. 

“As busy people say: 4 1 have not a minute to 
myself/ You will not have a breath of your own 
after you give yourself to Christ’s will and service. 

44 You remember the French aphorism: 4 'When we 
are right, we are more right than we think we are.’ 


80 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


To be right as Christ was right, is to be right 
gloriously and eternally. Eternity alone can re- 
veal how right. 

“ And to be wrong, as Satan was wrong in his 
rebellion, to be on the side against God forever 
and forever, only an eternity in hell can reveal 
hoiv wrong. And every one of you to-night who is 
not right, is wrong.” 

Bel held her breath as he sat down. Was that 
all? Was he through? Would he not tell her 
how to get right, for she knew she was all wrong ? 

Her eager eyes could catch a glimpse of the 
thick light hair as the head was bent forward, as 
if in prayer— was he praying for her, for them all ? 
Would she never hear him speak again? 

Madame was breathing hard : she pinched her 
hand to awaken her. The sea-captain threw him- 
self back into an easier position, and drew his lit- 
tle daughter’s head down to his shoulder. The two 
English ladies whispered to each other. 

Bel wished her head might go down, too; she 
trembled, she was afraid ; had she been alone she 
would have wept. 

“Was he very stupid?” whispered Madame's 
voice close to her ear. 


PROSPER DEKKER, 


81 


“ Hush ! ” she said, excitedly. 

As Bel was passing down the aisle, she heard 
the little girl behind her coaxing earnestly : u O, 
father, do stay and speak to him, because he is 
from New York. I am so tired of French people.” 

Bel turned to give her a glance — half coveting 
her opportunity. She had no one to “ stay ” with 
her or for her. Her little self would never be 
brought to his big notice. At her quick back- 
ward glance she saw that people were pressing 
around him ; if she could speak, what would she 
say? 

“Tell me more, and tell me Aom” 

The words were so near her lips that she felt as 
startled as if she had spoken them. 

“How the people listened!” said a voice behiid 
her. 

“Of course they did!” replied a voice that she 
was sure must belong to the girls’ father; “don’t 
you know that people are starving for the truth ? ” 

Bel knew it. She knew it without ever having 
thought of it before. She had been hungry all her 
life, and now she was starving : and it must be for 
“the truth,” because these “fragments” had be- 
gun to satisfy her longing and to make her keen 
for more. 


6 


82 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ Does he know some people that are starving ?” 
exclaimed Madame, hurrying her loitering com- 
panion down the aisle. 

Bel thought to herself that he did not mean 
Madame Mowbray. 


IV. 

THE GOODSPEED. 

How it all came about, Isobel was sure she could 
decide in her dreams more clearly than when wide 
awake, for it was like a dream when the most un- 
expected happening comes to pass; and yet, in a 
dream, one is never surprised at anything. Events 
seem to follow each other in a way that is almost 
natural; the queerest people appearing and the 
queerest things being done, with one’s breath 
never taken away with surprise. 

And now, to-morrow morning early, she would 
be sailing away from the shores of France — that 
was not unexpected, it had been drearily expected ; 
but to lie here in a berth in a small state-room of 
the American ship, Goodspeed, with voices in the 
cabin that she had been familiar with so few days, 
and yet, seemingly, so many years. 

Two days after that Sunday evening, when she 

had sat behind them in church, Lizette brought 

( 83 ) 


84 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES , 


them all three, up the stone stairs to Madame’s 
chamber. Captain Dermott held in his hand a 
letter of introduction from her father, and, while 
she stood bewildered before them and read it, he 
told Madame that Miss Kellinger’s father and 
himself had started out as boys together more 
than forty years before. 

The girls were not shy. The younger one, Elli- 
nor, asked questions, and the older, Janet, assured 
her that they would be so glad if she would go 
with them to Shields. They read and studied and 
sewed on shipboard, but the days were long, and 
they retired early, because they grew tired of 
their own fun and answering each others’ ques- 
tions. 

“And we dream about home every night,” 
added Ellinor. “ I like to go to bed for that ; we 
tell each other our dreams every morning. Janet 
dreamed last night she was to be hanged for kill- 
ing Charles the First.” 

Madame wept over her after they were gone, 
and said she never could live without her, and 
the suddenness of it was exactly like her father, and 
enough to kill them both. The next mail brought 
a letter from her mother, written hurriedly. Her 
father had that hour accepted an inferior position 


THE GOODSPEED. 


85 


on board a ship bound to Madras, and would 
have sailed when she received the letter. She 
would meet her at Shields and explain matters, and 
make arrangements for her to go to America; if 
the Goodspeed did not take a freight for New 
York, some other ship would be found. It would 
be cheaper to send her by a sailing vessel than by 
a steamer. She must keep up and be a good girl : 
she herself was broken down with disgrace and 
trouble, and she was glad her dear child had a 
home to go to and good friends to take her in. 

And now a week later, Bel was hiding her face 
in the pillow, homesick, and dreading more home- 
sickness. 

There were four voices in the cabin ; for, queerest 
of all, the American preacher was there, too. She 
had no idea why he was going to England, nor 
why he should be going in the Goodspeed. When 
the girls came for her this evening, Ellinor said 
he was on board the ship with his baggage, and 
she had felt too stupid to ask any questions. 

Immediately after tea she had asked that she 
might go into her state-room. The darkness would 
be a protection. She could hide her face and feel 
that it was not telling any tales. For an hour or 
two the murmur of voices continued, interrupted 


86 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


by low, pleasant laughter. They seemed to have 
so much to say to each other ; Ellinor sat on her 
father’s lap, and Janet spoke to him as if she 
loved him ; Bel did not remember that her father 
ever took her into his arms. How surprised Elli- 
nor was because she did not know where she was 
born ; she said she had never thought to ask her 
mother; the first home she remembered was in 
Havre. 

And then, more than all the queer, queer things, 
the preacher’s name was Dekker ! When she was 
not so afraid of him, she would ask him if he knew 
Perez Dekker; he might be his cousin, he surely 
was not his brother, with his light hair and blue 
eyes. 

Her small French Testament, the one she had 
used at school, she had put in her pocket; she had 
read it every day since that sermon ; with the tears 
streaming over her face, she put out her hand, and 
in the dark found her dress, and the precious book 
in the pocket. 

There was no light, for lights and fires were not 
allowed on shipboard, and she could not see one 
word; she kept it in her hand under the pillow, 
and so fell asleep. 

“ I’m so glad we have that girl,” remarked 


THE GOODSPEED. 


87 


Ellinor, a few moments after Bel had said good- 
night. 

“Kellinger has never treated her right,” re- 
turned Ellinor’s father. “ Now, I should be proud 
of a daughter like that.” 

“ Now, father, you think she is nicer than your 
own daughters;” pouted Ellinor. 

“She is pretty,” said Janet, “and as shy and 
sweet as a lily of the valley.” 

“ She has an interesting face,” said Mr. Dekker; 
“ there is an unusual charm about her.” 

“ I hope we shall go to New York, father, just 
to take her,” said Ellinor; “she will be a good 
cargo.” 

“ That is decided ; we shall take a cargo of coal 
to New York.” 

“ Perhaps she w r ill let us study French with 
her?” suggested Janet, “her English is prettier 
than ours, Nellie. I’m really ashamed of ours when 
she speaks.” 

“ Mr. Dekker, I wish I could light a lamp for 
you, but French law forbids it; you see we are so 
shut up here in the city that they will not trust us 
with fire. Our cooking is all done on shore.” 

“ Have you visited the ship yards, captain ?” 

“No, I have been tied down to business. I 


88 


ISO BEL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


wanted to take the girls up to Paris, but couldn’t 
trust my mate with the ship.” 

“ They tell me that the ship yards here produce 
the best- vessels in France.” 

“Yes, and these docks are the finest in the 
world; they can accommodate over six hundred 
vessels. Have you studied the history of the city, 
Miss Janet ?” 

“No, sir; we did not think of it.” 

“ Then you will be glad to know something of 
it, perhaps. It was founded by Louis Twelfth at 
the beginning of the sixteenth century, and con- 
sisted then of a few huts only. It was fortified 
under Francis First and the construction of a port 
was begun under his supervision — if I may use the 
word. It was named after him, Ville Francoise, 
or Francis Copolis, and afterward from a chapel, 
Havre de Grace. The signification of that is very 
telling to a sailor. The English took it in 1562, 
and bombarded it several times in the seventeenth 
and eighteenth centuries.” 

“ I wish we had known that before,” said Janet. 
“ Havre would have been more interesting. We 
have not cared much for it.” 

“We haven’t learned how to travel,” said 
Ellinor, sagely. 


THE GOODSPEED . 


44 Do you know the names of some of the noted 
people born here ?” Mr. Dekker inquired. 

44 We do not know anything /” exclaimed Janet. 
44 And we have kept a journal, too, but it is full of 
the noted people — ourselves.” 

44 Well, Mademoiselle Scudery is one, and Mad- 
ame de La Fayette another.” 

44 We know her” said Ellinor. 

44 Do you know Bernardin de St. Pierre ?” 

44 No, sir, nor that Mademoiselle,” answered, 
Ellinor. 

44 Miss Kellinger knows all about them, I sup- 
pose,” said Janet, 44 if she will only open her lips 
and talk to us.” 

These American girls, twelve-year old Ellinor 
" and eighteen-year old Janet, were not as charming 
and unusual as this French-English-American girl, 
but they were self-helpful, with minds and wills 
of their own ; and the stranger who was inter- 
ested in her, was pleased that this shy, reticent, 
pretty-mannered girl might have them to rub 
against her, for they would rub against her and 
startle her every hour of the day. They were 
frank to blunt ness ; and she, with her clear eyes, 
was she untrue ? He was interested, and had be- 
gun to make a study of her. There was a haze over 


90 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


her simplicity and a mistiness that seemed to dim 
what she seemed and what she was. That night, 
upon his knees, he asked the Lord that his service 
might be blessed to this young girl. 

The next morning, the wind was fair, and the 
sun shone ; the docks were unlocked, and the Good- 
speed was let out into the English Channel. 

That morning Ellinor learned that Havre was 
situated upon the south shore of the English 
Channel, and on the right bank of the Seine. She 
dropped Mr. Dekker’s hand and ran down into the 
cabin to fasten it into her journal before she let it 
slip out of her mind. She thought before the ship 
got to England, she would learn how to travel. 

As the ship made her way slowly out of the 
docks, the girls stood upon the quarter-deck. 
Madame Mowbray and Lizette were watching 
from the shore ; Lizette tearful, and Madame half 
stunned with the thought that her little Bel was 
sailing away, never to return to them. But Bel 
would write, she had promised; still that was little 
comfort. She had a way of holding her promises 
lightly, and with the broad Atlantic between them 
who would help her remember ? 

Bel waved to them as long as she could discern 
the two figures. Mademoiselle Abadie had come 


THE GOODSPEED. 


91 


to bid her farewell yesterday. These three were 
all her friends in France; and she had not three 
on the other side ; not two, only one, the old man 
they called her grandfather. 

The three beside her were strangers. She could 
not understand Janet; that talkative flyaway, 
Ellinor, shocked her continually, and Mr. Dekker 
was as far above her as the stars. 

He moved about everywhere, seeming to feel no 
strangeness, as much at home with Ellinor as 
though he had known her all her life ; she could 
not imagine him in any place or among any people 
where he would not be at home with himself. 

She was not at home with herself. 

u We know him because he’s an American,” 
Ellinor confided to Bel, pulling at Bel’s scarlet 
shawl; “when you are in a foreign country an 
American is just like your brother. Janet was so 
glad over the Herald , the first day she saw one 
here; and she never reads it at home. It was 
English, you see. We got so tired of French 
words all the time. One evening we went ashore, 
and there were some children playing tag — play- 
ing it in real English, too, and one of them called 
out, ‘ Let rue alone ! ’ and it sounded so good.” 

Mr. Dekker laughed, and asked her how she 


92 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


thought he would feel when he was on top of a 
pyramid ? 

“ I’m glad we are going to a country where they 
speak English. I told father not to go to Italy; 
that would have been worse still.” 

Bel spoke shyly: “Perhaps I shall be homesick 
for my dear French words.” 

“Do you say your prayers in French?” inquired 
Ellinor, in a surprised tone. 

Bel colored, hesitated, and at last gave an half 
articulate assent. 

u I pronounce my French as it is spelled, which 
is the common sense way. Mr. Dekker, do you 
think French people are as bright as Americans ? ” 
Ellinor asked, argumentatively. 

“I read a bit about French women this morning 
from an old magazine I found in my bag. It said 
that women here have a part in the circumstances 
that make history. They have been for centuries 
the companions of men — ” 

“ 1 think that makes them bright,” interrupted 
Ellinor. 

“Nell, what do you know?” laughed Janet. 

“I know that ” said Nell. “ Men tell you things 
— like Mr. Dekker.” 

“ Mr. Dekker, do you know French ?” asked Janet. 


THE GOODSPEED. 


93 


“ About as well, or as ill as I know a few other 
things/’ 

“ Miss Kellinger, your books are all in your 
trunks down in the hold, I suppose,” said Ellinor; 
“haven’t you left any French books out?” 

“ No, — yes — only my Testament.” Bel hesitated 
and flushed. 

“ Isn’t it a Bible ? ” 

“ No,” replied Bel, with perceptible impatience. 

“ Is your Bibje in French ? ” 

“ It is not in anything: I have no Bible,” was the 
quick reply, in a constrained tone, that caiised Elli- 
nor to give her an inquiring, innocent look, and to 
wonder why she was displeased. 

“ Flow many times have you read it through ? ” 
she persisted, ignoring her sister’s touch upon her 
shoulder. 

“ I have never read it — through.” 

“ "Which part do you like best ? ” 

“ I do not think I like any of it — much.” 

“ Why, Miss Kellinger ! ” exclaimed the little girl. 

“She has not read it. She can judge better 
after she has read it,” Janet hastened to say. 
“ Please excuse Nellie, Miss Kellinger, she forgets 
that she cannot ask every one the questions 
she asks me. She is interested in the Bible, 


94 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


because we are reading it through for the first 
time.” 

“ Will you read yours through, too ?” asked 
Ellinor. 

“ Yes, I intend to,” said Bel. “ I have nothing 
else to read.” 

“ Can’t you read English ? You may have our 
books.” 

“She understands English well enough to ap- 
preciate the English of the Italian who was show- 
ing the house where Columbus was born. He said : 

‘ Christopher Columbus used to be born here,’ and 
looked blank when somebody inquired where he 
was accustomed to die.” 

Bel smiled — the two girls laughed. 

Bel was attired this morning in dark gray 
cashmere of excellent quality, which she had 
fitted to herself from a travelling dress her mother 
had cast aside. Mrs. Kellinger refused to wear a 
dress the second season, if it had become at all 
what she called “antiquated.” Madame declared 
that Bel had dresses enough to last until she was 
thirty, if she would take the trouble to make them 
over; she wondered sometimes how girls felt in a 
new dress all their own ; her broad gray felt hat, 
her mother had worn two years ago ; she had re- 


THE GOODSPEED. 


95 


trimmed it with crimson velvet she had found in 
the last box of clothing sent to her, and Madame 
declared that she looked like a beauty in it. 

“ There should be some compensation,” Bel re- 
marked, as she stood before the glass watching 
the effect. The girls at Isobel’s side were evident- 
ly wearing dresses all their own. Pink and white 
ginghams simply and prettily made ; their sun hats 
were tied under their chins with broad pink rib- 
bon. Round faces, pretty cheeks, blue eyes and 
light brown hair peeped out from under the tied 
down hats. 

Ellinor chose to dress like Janet. In everything 
her older sister was her model. When Janet 
wrote in her journal, Ellinor wrote; when Janet 
read her Bible, Ellinor read hers; when Janet 
read Hume, Ellinor read Peter Parley. Ellinor 
had read Genesis at one reading. She said 
the Bible was the nicest story-book she had ever 
read. 

Bel began to feel that she would not be 
ashamed to bring her Testament out into the 
cabin. Nobody read the Testament at school, ex- 
cepting at the opening each morning, and Mad- 
ame rarely read her own English Bible. She 
knew her mother owned no Bible. There was one 


96 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES . 


on board her father’s ship, but the name of the 
ship was printed on the cover. 

Was it the Bible that made Mr. Dekker himself? 
She felt that the trip might not be so unpleasant 
after all; not if Mr. Dekker would talk to her, and 
Ellinor leave her alone. It would be bat a few 
days, and then she would see her mother. This 
was only one of the between times; the real, good 
times would be with her mother. 

How wide the world was growing ! 

How Mr. Dekker happened to be on board, she 
had no idea ; she would certainly listen if Ellinor 
■would ask him where he was going next. 

That night in church, she was sure she would 
never hear him speak again ; and now, this morn- 
ing she had taken breakfast sitting at his side. 
He had laid a roll upon her plate, and had mo- 
tioned to the cabin-boy when her coifee was out. 

“ Havre is a beautiful old city in this sunshine ! ” 
said Janet, gazing at the buildings familiar to Bel 
from her childhood. 

“ It is always beautiful,” returned Bel, proudly. 

“ 0 yes, it’s pretty, but not as pretty as Amer- 
ica,” assented Ellinor, carelessly. “ There’s noth- 
ing as pretty as America, excepting the moon.” 

“Do you think the French side is as pretty as 


THE GOODSPEED. 


97 


the Yankee side?” inquired Mr. Dekker, with 
solicitude. 

“ Oh, I always wanted to see the other side of the 
moon,” exclaimed Ellinor. “I knew it had an- 
other side.” 

“ Now Mr. Dekker !” said Janet. 

“ I’ll tell you about the moon some time — I sup- 
pose we shall have a great many talks.” 

“ Of course,” said Ellinor, contentedly, “ I want 
to be like the French women — if that is true.” 

“ Miss Kellinger, if we had only known you 
earlier !” said Janet, “ how you might have shown 
us Havre !” 

“I am very sorry.” Bel’s voice sounded very 
quiet in contrast ; “ but papa had not decided 
then — or perhaps he did not know you were in 
Havre.” 

“ You are a part of our cargo,” cried Ellinor, glee- 
fully. “ You are to be shipped to America and 
consigned to your owners.” 

Bel stepped away with the slightest curl about 
her upper lip; and again Ellinor wondered why 
she should be displeased. 

The first day upon the water the sun shone, the 
air was pleasantly warm, and the three girls walked 

upon the deck, or sat working or reading in camp 
7 


98 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


chairs, with Mr. Dekker in his steamer chair not 
far off. 

“ Mr. Dekker !” Ellinor dropped her porcelain 
slate upon the desk, with its finished example in 
division, and walked over to the steamer chair. 

“ Does anybody know,” she asked, “ what makes 
the Atlantic ocean salt ?” 

“ Some people think they know.” 

“ Are you one of them ?” she inquired, with 
unsmiling earnestness. 

“ I know what some people think.” 

“ Is it too hard for me ?” 

u Perhaps it is worth while to try and see,” he 
returned, looking up into the serious eyes under 
the hat; “what do you think is at the bottom of 
the sea?” 

“ Mud,” was the unhesitating reply. 

“ What kind of mud ?” 

Ellinor fixed her eyes upon the deck and medi- 
tated; Bel’s eyes were upon the lace in her fingers, 
but they were listening eyes. 

“ I don’t know what kind; — salt?” she ventured, 
with a laugh. 

“ Salt mud; I think it is.” 

“ Has anybody ever dug any of it up ?” 

u A coating of it was found on the lower half of 


THE GOODSPEED. 


99 


the recovered Atlantic cable; and the bulk of it was 
supposed to be formed of carbonate of lime. And 
how that lime reached the bottom of the sea, I 
will try to make plain to you. You know the sun 
shines upon the ocean, and pure water is constantly 
distilled out of the salt water; the pure water 
ascends and forms clouds — ” 

Ellinor nodded ; she knew that. 

“These clouds drift over the continents and 
come in contact with certain conditions of the cli- 
mate and fall to the earth in drops of rain; the 
rain filters drop by drop through the soil, and 
forms springs, and the springs overflow into brooks 
and the brooks run into rivers.” 

u Yes,” nodded the child. 

“But this river water is not as pure as it 
was when it fell in drops of rain; it has gath- 
ered something in passing through the soil, 
and thus charged with what it has gathered, 
which I cannot explain to you now, it runs into 
the sea.” 

“ It gathers lime, I guess, and things the earth 
is made of ; I wrote down what the earth is made 
of. I copied it out of a book.” 

“So you see, the saltness of the sea comes out 
of the land — or some wise people think so.” 


100 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


u I wish I could understand the part you didn’t 
tell me.” 

“ Oh, you will some day.” 

« If you ask questions enough,” added her father, 
with his hearty laugh. “Don’t let her bother you, 
Mr. Dekker.” 

“ I’m glad to be bothered,” he returned. “ I miss 
a little girl who bothers me at home.” 

“ Is she your little girl ?” asked Ellinor, curiously. 

“Yes, she is mine.” 

Bel’s listening eyes were watching eyes, also; 
they caught the content and the tenderness in his 
eyes. 

“ What is her name?” 

“Her name is Annie.” 

“ Why didn’t you bring her ? ” 

“Surely enough! Why didn't I? Chiefly be- 
cause she is too young.” 

“ Does she have to stay with her mother ? ” 

“Yes.” 

Ellinor went back to her slate, Janet turned a 
page in Macaulay, and Bel counted the stitches in 
her work. 

In the evening a tide of homesickness, if that 
were the name of it, swept over Bel; the girls had 
their father; they had him as she had never had 


THE GOODSPEED. 


101 


her father; Ellinor sat on his knee with her head 
on his shoulder and her arm about his neck, and 
Janet sat near him reading aloud. Mr. Dekker 
threw himself upon the sofa and fell asleep, under 
his heavy shawl, his travelling companion by day 
and by night. Bel sat at the table with her work 
in her hand, not listening to the reading, not 
listening to anything but the moan of her own 
heart. 

She had written to her mother, that when she 
was born hope was left out of her. The happiness 
of these girls caused her to feel keenly her own 
desolation ; the meeting with her mother, was 
the prelude to the agony of the long parting and 
separation; and then, that undefined dread was 
upon her again, for her mother had written that 
she had something to talk to her about, that would 
not be pleasant to her; but she must bear it like a 
good girl. 

Mr. Dekker had said something about shocks, 
and being prepared; she could not remember it. 
If she only dared to awaken him and ask him ; but 
she would never dare to ask him anything. He’ 
was kind to her, and he often smiled when he dis- 
covered that she was gazingathim; but he did 
not talk to her as he talked to Ellinor or Janet. 


102 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


The appeal in her eyes touched him every hour. 
The captain had told him that her mother was a 
frivolous, extravagant piece, and her father, a 
scapegrace. 

“ My heart would break if my girls had nothing 
better. There’s a grandfather somewhere, but 
what’s a grandfather ! ” 

“ I had a grandfather — grandfathers are a 
great deal. When I was two years old all I had 
was a grandfather.” 

The yellow head under the shawl was motionless ; 
the light from the swinging lamp shone over his 
closed eyes and full reddish-yellow beard; the tem- 
ples were thin, the high forehead might have been 
modelled in wax, and have had more the tint of 
life. Bel thought he must be very ill. 

She wished the little girl and her mother were 
with him. 


V. 


RHIZOPODS. 

The second day the white cliffs of England were 
in sight. Wrapping themselves up well about the 
middle of the morning, the girls went up on deck ; 
Mr. Dekker, protected by overcoat and shawl, was 
lounging in his steamer chair, with his soft dark 
felt hat slouched over his eyes ; his Bible and note 
book were peeping from the folds of his shawl. 

Ellinor ran to him and stood at his side, with 
her hand upon the arm of his chair; Janet drew 
Bel’s arm within her own, and they paced up and 
down. A coop had been rudely built upon the 
deck; the girls stopped before it to look at the 
thirteen hens and comment upon each one. Janet 
caught at any suggestion that might serve as a 
topic of conversation ; she was finding Miss Kellin- 
ger very silent, and hard to become acquainted 
with; Ellinor declared that she was proud, and 
“ huffy at something all the time.’ , 


( 103 ) 


104 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


44 1 believe that every created thing has a noise 
of its own remarked Janet, as one of the hens 
began to cackle over the treasure of her newly laid 

egg- 

“ I do not believe fishes do,” said Bel. 

“ I wonder if they do have a sound of their 
own,” exclaimed Janet, “ I will ask Mr. Dekker.” 

46 He may not know,” said Bel, detaining her. 

44 Then he will say so,” answered Janet, turning 
away from the hen coop. “It does not trouble 
him to speak to him.” 

Bel withdrew her arm from Janet’s, and with- 
drew herself to the head of the steamer chair, 
while Janet propounded her question. 

“0 yes,” interrupted Ellinor, “I want to know 
that, too.” 

44 Happily, Miss Janet, you are not the first per- 
son who has thought of it. Dr. Dufosse has been 
studying the phenomenon of sound or voice in fish- 
es, giving the French Academy of Sciences the 
benefit of his studies. Dr. Dufosse recognizes 
three classes of sounds produced by fishes.” 

“ I never heard any kind,” announced Ellinor. 

“ You may not have given the subject as close 
attention as Dr. Dufosse,” said Mr. Dekker, smil- 
ing up into her hat. “ He shows that one class of 


RHIZORODS. 


105 


sound is voluntary and expressive; some fishes can 
give forth a sound that can be heard at a distance 
of several yards ; but when many utter the sound 
together it can be heard at a much greater dis- 
tance.’’ 

“ I am glad they can express themselves in some 
fashion,” said Bel. 44 One would burst if one were 
angry and could not find a vent.” 

“ I never thought of their having any emotion 
to express; but I wouldn’t like to think they were 
angry and could not 4 kick,’ said Mr. Dekker. 44 It 
would be rather hard on them. But why did you 
think of anger as one of their emotions ?” 

“ Because it is so often one of my own,” returned 
Bel, smiling, and bringing her face within range 
of his eyes. 

44 You look fierce,” he said. 44 I knew you had a 
temper.” 

44 So did 1,” said plain spoken Ellinor. 44 She has 
been mad at me two or three times.” 

44 Those cliffs are wonderful things,” Mr. Dekker 
remarked, taking Ellinor’s cold fingers into his 
gloved hands. 44 1 wonder if you know what they 
are made of.” 

Bel had withdrawn herself again behind the 
steamer chair, with a resentful light in her eyes. 


106 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES. 


That saucy little thing ! She would like to box 
her ears ! 

“ They look like stone, or chalk,” ventured Elli- 
nor. 

“ Did you ever hear of the tiny animals called 
Bhizopods ?’” 

“Never,” replied Ellinor. 

Bel would have walked away, but that it would 
seem discourtesy towards Mr. Dekker. Why did 
he never tell her anything, or notice her ; why 
must it always be Ellinor or Janet ?” 

“ They are exceedingly small; they inhabit the 
tiniest shells ; many of them are nearly as large as 
a grain of wheat. Do you know how large or 
how small that is?” 

“ 0 yes,” answered Ellinor, with her confident 
little nod. “ I have seen wheat threshed on a farm 
where we go in summer.” 

“ But the greater number show merely as fine 
dust. Think how small they must be ! The Bhiz- 
opods are of different shapes; some round, some 
spiral. Sometimes there are several shells in one 
mass ; a separate animal inhabits each shell. The 
little fellow has not even a mouth or a stomach; 
he can absorb food at any part of his body. They 
live in the ocean in vast numbers; tens of millions 


RH1Z0P0DS. 


107 


always coming into existence and tens of mil- 
lions always going out of existence. They live 
their little lives and die and sink down to the 
floor of the ocean — ” 

“Just as the stuff that makes salt does,” Ellinor 
could not forbear interrupting. She fastened her 
facts together with a chain, and then wound the 
chain around inside of her memory — she said: 

“Down there on the ocean bottom are heaped 
up their skeletons or shells, layer upon layer, layer 
upon layer. For a long time it was suspected that 
these white cliffs were built in this manner, and 
now the tact is proved ; for mud has been dredged 
up from the bottom, composed of layers of these 
tiny shells, that had dropped by myriads and be- 
come fastened together in one huge mass.” 

“But how do the clifis get up — out of the 
water ?” inquired Ellinor, as the question was form- 
ing itself upon Bel’s lips. 

“ The mass of shell has been upheaved, slowly 
or suddenly, no one knows how — at the word of 
command.” 

With reverent and curious eyes each one gazed 
long and silently at the white cliffs. 

“Are these chalk cliffs anywhere else ? ” Janet 
asked. 


108 


I SOB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


“0 yes, they extend from Ireland, through 
England and France, and as far as the Crimea; in 
the south of Russia they are found six hundred 
feet thick; yet one cubic inch of chalk is calcu- 
lated to hold the shells of more than one million 
rhizopods.” 

Even silent Bel was moved to utter an exclama- 
tion of delight and wonder. 

1 4 What tiny creatures, to make such wonderful 
work!” she said, after an instant. 

“ And, oh, dear me, the time ! ” cried Janet. 

“The Master Workman has plenty of time for 
all his co-workers,” replied Mr. Dekker, in his qui- 
etest tone. No one had noticed the shadow that 
rested on his face, lurking in his darkened -eyes, 
but now, at some unspoken comfort in his own 
words, the shadow was lifted, his eyes seemed to 
grow larger, as well as clearer and brighter. 

His eyes shone very blue under the shaggy 
cliffs of his eye-brows, a moustache of reddish-gold 
shaded his lips, and a beard, slightly darker, fell 
over his breast. Ellinor had said that morning 
that he was all beard and hat and shawl. 

Isobel thought she would like to know how 
much time he had had to build himself. 

“ All the same — I am glad I wasn’t made a 


RH1Z0P0DS . 


109 


rhizopod instead of a girl,” said Ellinor, in her 
tone of announcing a discovery; “those cliffs are 
big and splendid, and I’ll never help make any- 
thing half as grand ! ” 

“0 yes, you will ! You have yourself to build,” 
was her sister’s quick reply. 

Bel smiled; she had never heard a young girl 
talk in Janet’s style. An hour’s conversation be- 
tween the two sisters had amused her that morn- 
ing. Ellinor had been full of questions, and Janet 
full of wise answers; Bel supposed some of her 
quotations came from the Bible. 

“The literal meaning of the name of these tiny 
builders, these chalk and limestone makers, is 
Boot-foot.” 

“ Because they are at the root of the foot ! ” said 
Janet. “Now, Ellie, you know the beginning of 
the cliffs.” 

“ I do not believe I should care so much about 
the Boot-foots, if I couldn’t see the cliffs right 
before my eyes. Oh, now I know, Mr. Dekker ! 
This is another good of travelling. Shall you 
go to the root-foot of everything as you travel 
along ? ” 

“Hardly — one life-time would not suffice.” 

“The rhizopods live such a little time,” said 


110 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES. 


Bel; “they die, and cannot see what they have 
builded.” 

“The Master Builder sees.” 

“ I think I want to see myself. I want to see 
the end of things.” 

“ So we may. We are not rhizopods. They 
were made for us. They are a part of the fulness 
of the earth — and the meek shall inherit the 
earth.” 

“ Only the meek ?” asked Bel, jealously. 

“ The promise is to them.” 

“ Then the earth is not ray inheritance.” 

“It is not written: ‘They who are born meek 
shall inherit the earth.’ ” 

“ 1 do not know what is for me — yet.” 

“You have not had very much time to dis- 
cover.” He looked up with a smile to meet her 
timid questioning eyes. He had not told her that 
she was one among his listeners whom he had sin- 
gled out to talk to that Sunday might. After a 
moment he pulled off his glove and opened his 
note-book to jot down something. 

“You will have to get another book before you 
go all around the world,” observed Ellinor. 

“More than another, I hope.” 

Ellinor moved away to the side of the ship and 


RHIZOPODS . 


Ill 


stood gazing intently into the water, seeking to 
discover a rhizopod. The captain came np the 
stairs from the main deck, and spoke sharply to 
the man at the wheel. Janet drew Bel away, and 
they walked np and down conversing in low tones. 

“ We are having a fine run to-day, Mr. Dekker,” 
said the captain. “ What you need is to be salted 
through.” 

“ So my physician said.” 

Ellinor went down to the cabin and wrote in 
her journal; she wrote in her journal half a dozen 
times a day. 

“ English Channel, Aug. 13. I have done 
twenty-one sums in algebra to-day, and learned 
what the white cliffs are made out of. Miss Kel- 
linger begins to talk some. Her eyes are just 
lovely.” 


VI. 


THE NORTH SEA. 

“ Come up quick and see Dover ! ” shouted Elli- 
nor down the stairway. 

The cabin door was open leading into the square 
passage, and Bel heard each word distinctly, but 
she did not stir. It was a luxury to be alone in 
the cabin, as she had been the last half hour. She 
had been reading in French, the chapter in the 
New Testament that Mr. Dekker had read in Eng- 
lish at family worship. 

This family worship was one of the great pleas- 
ures of the day to her. She thought Mr. Dekker 
prayed out of her own heart. In his prayers he 
answered some of her questions. 

“We’ve got the glass. We can see Dover Cas- 
tle,” was Ellinor’s excited announcement two min- 
utes later. 

With some impatience Bel arose, and went 
into her state-room to wrap up warm, and then 
012 ) 


THE NORTH SEA . 


113 


started leisurely for a view of Dover and Dover 
Castle. 

“Why didn’t you come sooner?” rebuked Elli- 
nor, as Bel staggered through the doorway of the 
house on the quarter-deck out on the deck. Cap- 
tain Dermott met her, giving her his arm, and led 
her to the ship’s side where Mr. Dekker and the 
girls were standing. 

“Do you know all about the Castle?” inquired 
Ellinor, clinging to her father’s disengaged arm. 

“No,” said Isobel, releasing herself from the 
captain’s protection. “Thank you, sir.” 

“I don’t believe you want to know,” pouted 
Ellinor. “ 1 don’t think you are a very good 
traveller.” 

“ 1 acknowledge that,” said Bel, smiling under 
her broad hat, and holding it on with both un- 
gloved hands. 

“ Is your little girl a good traveller ?” Ellinor 
inquired. 

She was clinging to Mr Dekker’s arm with both 
hands. 

“She has travelled in Europe and America; I 
think she is.” 

“ Didn’t she want to come now with you ?” 

A very serious “ no ” was the reply. 

8 


114 


I SOB ELS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Had she seen enough ?’’ 

“For the present She preferred to go to 
college.” 

“ Oh, I thought she was little . You said so,” cried 
Ellinor, disappointedly. 

“She is little and young. She is not seven- 
teen.” 

“ I think that is dd? said Ellinor, decidedly. 

The captain’s eyes were scanning the horizon. 
“There’s a thunder-storm coming up. We shall 
see a fine sight.” 

As the Goodspeed entered the North Sea, the 
storm clouds hung directly overhead; the sun 
was shining on either side of the dense mass; the 
white cliffs stood out staunch and still over the 
darkened water. Over the French side, the home 
side to Bel, who was watching with her heart in 
her eyes, rosy clouds were floating. France was 
in the sunshine. Her France would always be in 
the sunshine. The rain fell gently, the rain-drops 
danced upon the water, the lightning played 
among the black clouds, and the thunder burst in 
long, echoing peals. 

“ I said ’twould be a fine sight,” remarked the 
captain. “ I’ve seen it before — just here.” 

As they were watching the shower, a Bremen 


THE NORTH SEA . 


115 


ship passed, bound down the channel; a lady and 
gentleman upon the deck waved their handker- 
chiefs in friendly greeting. Bel pulled off her hat 
and swung it; the gentlemen lifted their hats. 
Janet and Ellinor waved their handkerchiefs, 
shouting: “ Good-bye ! Good-bye !” 

“ They will get to America before we do/' said 
Ellinor, disconsolately. 

“ Every ship is not bound to America, child,” 
answered Janet. 

“ Ours is, though,” said Ellinor, “and every knot 
away from America is one knot nearer. Isn’t that 
a — a — paradox ?” 

“ Haven’t you a grandmother, Miss Kellinger ?” 
inquired Janet. 

“ I do not know,” said Bel, crimsoning, “ I did 
not ask Mr. Dekker. No one ever told me.” 

“ Mr. Dekker !” exclaimed puzzled Janet, “ does 
he know your relatives ?” 

“Another Mr. Dekker !” explained Bel, smooth- 
ing her wind-tossed hair; “ he came from America; 
he was studying in Oxford, he lived near my 
grandpapa.” 

“ Not Perez Dekker,” was Mr. Dekker’s surprised 
exclamation. “He had work to do for his college 
in England last summer. Did he call upon you ?” 


116 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Oui, Monsieur,” said Bel; then, with a little 
laugh, she said, “ yes, sir.” 

“ Perez Dekker is my cousin; our fathers were 
brothers ; my grandfather had the care of me 
and he was across the continent. He is very 
dark, with eyes one is not likely to forget, and 
long hair.” 

“ Yes,” said Bel, with a smile, as she recalled his 
eyes and hair. “He has a sister — they live alone, 
with each other, opposite my grandpapa’s house in 
the country.” 

“And you are going there ! hope you will see 
a great deal of him. His work is among young 
ynen ; but he lectures occasionally to young ladies. 
We were at Yale together in the same class ; then 
he came to Germany. We do not altogether ap- 
prove each other, but we have a strong feeling for 
and with each other.” 

“ Why doesn’t he approve you ? ” asked Ellinor, 
with quick indignation. 

“ Oh, he thinks I might have done better,” was 
the light reply. 

“ Has he done better ?” 

“He makes more money; he has something of a 
position. I worked two years in a country parish 
before I had rested from the seminary wdiere I suf- 


THE NORTH SEA. 


117 


fered from overwork. I never had any physical 
strength to speak of. I was not wise.” 

“ I shouldn’t think he would approve you,” com- 
mented Ellinor, severely. “But you wouldn’t have 
been here but for that.” 

“No.” 

Bel went down into the cabin, thinking that 
she had learned something about her new com- 
panion, and with a hope that some day she might 
see him in that house opposite her grandfather’s. 
If he had only come instead of that other one ! 

The next day a drizzling rain fell all the morn- 
ing, and the girls were kept prisoners in the cabin. 
Janet was never idle ; her books and work were 
always at hand. Ellinor chatted to her own heart’s 
content, if sometimes to the discomfort of the 
others ; studied her lessons, and played games by 
herself on the slate. 

As soon as prayers were over, Mr. Dekker ex- 
cused himself and went into his state-room. Bel 
had no book beside her Testament ; although read- 
ing it with a new and vivid interest, she felt too 
shy, or too ashamed of her emotion over it to read 
it for any lengthened time in the presence of 
the others. She liked to drop her head into her 
hands and think, when moved by an incident or a 


118 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


phrase, and this would be a strange thing to do 
when not alone. Ellinor would be sure to ask if 
her head ached, or if she might do something for 
her, and Janet would look sympathetic. It would 
seem unkind to seclude herself, as Mr. Dekker so 
often did; and then, wdiy should she not love to be 
with these girls ? 

She had looked over their, small library and was 
not desirous to read any of their books. An hour 
or two over each of them had been sufficient. Her 
lace was finished, and she had no material for other 
work. Their work consisted in knitting, mending 
stockings and making flags. Their own fingers 
were enough for their work. She would not offer 
any assistance; still she looked down at her own 
idle fingers this morning, smiling as she thought 
of what Madame would say to her. Madame had 
suggested material for work, but she had replied 
that she had no money to buy anything. She had 
no letter paper; she could not write to her or 
Lizette. If she only had a blank book like Janet's. 
She had kept a diary at school, and hated it ; but 
distasteful work was better than no work at all. 
It would keep her from remembering that she 
must leave mamma, and that mamma had some- 
thing to tell her. She was not being brave or 


THE NORTH SEA . 


119 


good; she had never felt so wicked in her life. 
She was all wrong, and that meant more wrong 
than she knew. 

Mr. Dekker emerged from his seclusion as the 
steward entered to lay the cloth for dinner, and 
then the life and brightness began for her. It be- 
gan and lasted all through the afternoon. 

The hour after dinner was the lazy hour for the 
workers. The captain stretched himself on the 
sofa, with his tarpaulin on his knees, Mr. Dekker 
leaned back in his steamer • chair, speaking or 
silent as the mood was upon him, a sympathetic 
presence either speaking or silent; Janet was read- 
ing leisurely, and for the fourth time, a tattered 
copy of Nelson’s “Cause and Cure of Infidelity.” It 
was more interesting than a story-book to herself 
and her little sister. She had taken it from her 
trunk for the present reading. Bel caught a 
glimpse of a page over her shoulder, and for an 
instant became spell-bound. That was a book she 
would read. 

Ellinor was finishing her “ Rollo’s Travels” for 
the seventh time, and yawned over the last 
sentence. 

“Oh. Mr. Dekker!” in a tone of pathetic pa- 
tience, “ I don't know what to do next !” 


120 


I SOB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ Oh, Miss Ellin or,” in comical imitation of her 
distress, “ can I help you find out ?” 

“I want to do something.” 

“So do I. That is what is consuming me.” 

“You do not look consumed,” she cried, in a live- 
lier voice, dropping her book and dropping herself 
on the carpet near his feet. “Will you tell us 
things ?” 

u .O yes, anything,” opening his eyes to smile at 
her eagerness. 

“ May I ask you all the questions I want to ?” 

“ May I answer only those I want to ?” 

“Oyes, certainly.” 

Bel and Janet were sitting on the long cush- 
ioned seat at the other side of the table. Bel was 
writing her name on Ellinor’s slate; Janet closed 
her book and unrolled the long blue sea-stocking 
she was knitting for her father. The pink ging- 
hams had been exchanged for blue merinos. Bek 
was still in her travelling suit. Mr. Dekker had 
put on, to-day, a long dressing-gown of dark blue, 
faced with silk of a lighter hue, and tied about the 
waist with dark blue cord and tassel; upon his feet 
were black velvet embroidered slippers. Ellinor’s 
fingers were picking at the roses on the slippers. 

“ Did Annie make the slippers ?” 


THE NORTH SEA. 


121 


“Yes, and her mother made the gown. They 
were given me the day I left home, six months 
ago.” 

“ They are very pretty. Do they write to you?” 

“Yes, Annie writes, and her father and her 
mother.” 

“I thought you were her father!” cried Ellinor, 
in exceeding surprise ; “ you said she was your lit- 
tle girl.” 

“Did you think I was forty years old ?” 

“Ain’t you?” 

“I am not thirty.” 

“You look old,” decided the child. “How is 
she your little girl then ?” 

“ Because she has given herself, and her father 
and mother have given her — to me.” 

“Oh,” with an expression of enlightenment. 
Janet looked at Bel and both smiled. 

“Mr. Dekker, may I be what Janet calls per- 
sonal ?” 

“If you will allow me the same kind privilege.” 

“How old are you, then?” 

“Not twenty-nine, as Americans count.” 

“ Why, how do they count ? ” 

“ We reckon from the day of one’s birth.” 

u There aint any other way.” 


122 


ISO BE VS BE TWEEN TIMES . 


44 There is the Chinese way.” 

“What is that?” 

“They do not reckon from the day of one’s birth, 
but from New Year’s day.” 

“ How dreadful funny ! ” 

“ A young Chinaman would not feel as discom- 
posed as I did at being asked my age in the pre- 
sence of these young ladies ; the question is not a 
delicate one with them ; even the refined and ele- 
gant will ask a stranger, just introduced : 4 What 
is your honorable age ? ’ ” 

“ I’ll imagine we are in China, then. I want to 
know if you are rich. We think you must be.” 

“ Nell ! ” chided her sister. 

“ I am very rich, but I have not a great deal of 
money. To be rich in America one must have a 
great deal of money.” 

44 Have you enough ? ” 

“More than enough.” 

“ Do you have to work for it ? ” 

44 No, it was worked for before I "was born ; all 
I had to do to get it was to be born.” 

44 Is it in ships?” 

“ Ellin or Dermott! ” rebuked Janet. 

44 No.” 

“And you aint married, then?’ 


THE NORTH SEA . 


123 


“ Not yet.” 

“ When will you be ? ” 

“ Now, Ellinor, you must stop,” said Janet. 
“ Mr. Dekker, why do you encourage her ? ” 

“For her amusement and my own.” 

“ I think it is spoiling her,” said Janet, indig- 
nantly. 

“ I am spoiled already,” said Ellinor, unconcern- 
edly; “please answer me, Mr. Dekker.” 

“ When I am well and strong and Annie is 
through college.” 

“ Has she a sister ? ” 

“ Like me, unhappily, she is an only child.” 

“Is she rich?” 

“ Her father is in a good business.” 

“ Is she pretty ? ” 

“ Do you think so ?” 

From an inner pocket he drew a case containing 
a painting upon ivory, and laid it in Ellinor’s 
hand. 

“ Oh, how beautiful ! ” she exclaimed. 

Janet bent forward ; Bel thought jealously of 
her lovely face in ivory. 

“ She has laughing black eyes, full of witchery ; 
she is the very spirit of merriment ; she has never 
had a shadow over her happy and beautiful life.” 


124 


I SOB ELS BETWEEN TIMES. 


It was a beautiful face, the laughing light in her 
eyes had been caught and kept in them. 

“ She has the only arch face I ever saw.” 

Bel looked at it, studying it; it was not as lovely 
as Hope Devoe’s face ; this was a girl’s face, her 
face was a woman’s face. 

“ May I show you something ? ” she asked. 

The case was in her pocket; she would not en- 
trust it to her trunk ; she touched the spring and 
put it into Mr. Dekker’s hand. 

u That is very sweet,” he said, 44 she is older than 
Annie.” 

44 Oh, yes.” 

“Who is she?” asked Ellinor, bringing her 
short-sighted eyes down close to it. 

“ My mother’s cousin. I never saw her, I never 
shall see her ; she is dead.” 

“ Is your mother like that? ” asked Janet. 

44 Oh, no ; mamma is dark and splendid.” 

44 You are something like your picture, Miss 
Kellinger,” said Ellinor, “you have that kind of 
eyes and hair.” 

44 1 could not be,” said Bel, simply. 

The pattering of rain drops overhead had ceased, 
the sun had burst out and was shining over their 
heads down through the skylight. 


THE NORTH SEA. 


125 


Mr. Dekker returned the picture to its . hiding 
place, with a smile in his eyes, thinking of her last 
freak, the sprite ! 

In a letter that he had received upon his arrival 
in Havre was enclosed an unsealed envelope, with 
the superscription : “To be read one month after 
you have received it.” 

Some little bit of mischief ! Some pleasant sur- 
prise ! The two letters he had since received, were 
not as frank and confiding as the others, and yet 
there was an air of unrestraint about them that the 
others had not had; was the child becoming 
changed with the increase of the distance between 
them ? He had known her all her life, and called her 
his little wife before she was five years old; they 
had been like brother and sister for so many years ; 
it was only when he found that he must leave 
her that he discovered his long love toward her. 
And she had been so grieved, and said she would 
be lost without him, and had promised, with the 
most serious look he had ever seen in her eyes, that 
she would marry him when he came back. 

She had been ill since he had left her; her mo- 
ther had written that something seemed to be on 
her mind, and the physician had urged change. 
Was it that she missed his companionship ? 


126 


JS OB EL’S BETWEEN TIMES . 


Would it be better for them both to go back and 
bring her to share his rest and travel ? Her 
father would not consent; his consent to the en- 
gagement had been hardly won, and how could he, 
but for the child’s sake, snatch her away from her 
mother ? 

Would she come with him; w r ould she leave her 
father and mother ? She was such a child still, 
he thought tenderly. 

The captain opened his eyes — he had not been 
asleep, and looked at Mr. Dekker. 

“ Mr. Dekker, I do not know whether lam saved 
or not.” 

Bel gave him a startled glance. 

Janet did not lift her eyes from her work; her 
father’s “ doubts ” were not new to her. 

“ Do you know whether you love God or not?” 

“Yes, I am sure of that.” 

“ Do you choose his will ?” 

“ Yes, I am sure of that.” 

“ Have you given yourself to his service ?” 

“ Over and over.” 

“ Do you know why ? Because you are saved ; 
all these things grow out of the forgiveness of 
your sins. Does an unforgiven man love God’s 
self and God’s will ? Is a lost man so found?” 


THE NORTH SEA. 


127 


The captain sprang to his feet and pushed his 
tarpaulin down upon his head. Five minutes 
later, he tapped upon the sky-light and called: 
“ Girls ! girls ! come up, if you want a sight of 
land.” 

Beside the glimpse of land, which he supposed 
to be Flamborough Head, he had called them 
to see another sight — seventy-five vessels with 
sails set. That evening Ellinor wrote in pencil 
in her journal: “lam so glad, we are almost to 
England. We counted seventy-five vessels to-day, 
large and small and middle-sized. I must not for- 
get to tell father to buy ‘Pilgrim’s Progress’ and 
some candies when we get in. It is very cold. I 
never was so far north before. We have just had 
supper. Ham, and salt beef, and potatoes, and 
dried peaches, and bread, and cake and tea and 
coffee. Miss Kellinger is so glad of : ‘ Cause and 
Cure of Infidelity.’ Janet likes it better than any 
book she ever read. Father says I read it as if it 
were a story book. I like it. Mr. Dekker says 
Janet and I are real Yankee girls. We are Scotch, 
too. Fie looked surprised because we liked that 
book.” 

“Miss Kellinger, can you think in French?” in- 
quired Janet. 


128 


I SOB EL S BETWEEN TIMES. 


u Can you think in English, Miss Janet ?” inquired 
Bel, a slow and surprised smile dawning in her 
eyes. 

Mr. Dekker tossed aside his book and touched 
Ellinor’s arm: “0 Miss Ellinor,” in a tone of exag- 
gerated appeal, “I wish you and your folks loved 
me and my folks, as well as me and my folks love 
you and your folks. For sure, there never was 
folks, since folks were folks, that ever loved folks 
half so well as me and my folks love you and your 
folks.” 


VII. 


IN THE NIGHT. 

Every girl had somebody, every girl beside her- 
self knew what would happen next, every girl be- 
side herself belonged somewhere. 

If she might only sail on and on, and never 
come to land! Then mamma would never tell her 
that dreadful thing and send her away. 

Ellinor had fallen asleep in her father’s arms, 
and Janet had kissed him good-night. They had 
all bidden her good-night very kindly, and she 
had crept into her berth with burning cheeks over 
the first part of that true and most wonderful 
book that would influence every day of her life. 
If she dared she would ask her father to buy it 
and read it; had not Madame called him an “ unbe- 
liever?” 

And then she began to think about Jesus as 
she had learned of him in her Testament. He 

was in a ship a great many times. Once he was 
9 ■ ( 129 ) 


130 I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 

asleep on a pillow, and there was a great storm. 
She had read about it that evening. 

“ Mais il etait a la poupe, dormant sur un 
oreiller; et ils le reveillerent, et lui dirent: Maitre, 
ne te soucies-tu point que nous perissions ?” 

He did care then. He did not permit them to 
be hurt. Did he care now, too ? 

She was not afraid on the ship, but she was 
afraid of coming to land, and of what would meet 
her there. For the first time she shrank from 
meeting her beautiful mother. 

And then she remembered that Jesus was on 
the land with his disciples, and knew everything 
that happened to them. With this comfort she 
fell asleep, awaking soon afterwards with a start. 
She had dreamed that her mother was not her own 
mother, and that was why she was sending her 
away. 

Madame’s words to Mademoiselle when she was 
a little girl came back to her: “There is some mys- 
tery. I do not believe she is her own mother.” 

Tears were on her cheeks. In her agony she 
was crying out : “ Mamma, mamma ! ” 

The ship was rolling. W 7 ith both hands she 
clung to the side of her berth. Through the ven- 
tilator over the door she discerned the dull light 


IN THE NIGHT. 


131 


of the swinging lamp in the cabin. There was no 
one in the cabin^ the state-room was stifling and 
dark. Why might she not put on her red wrapper 
and go out and read awhile ? 

She had never been happy in the dark. When 
the moon was not shining in her chamber, Mad- 
ame had always kept a lamp burning for her. 

It would be strange, but it was not wrong. It 
was not like breaking the rules at school, as she 
had done times unnumbered. They were all 
asleep. No one would discover her, and she 
would not speak of it. 

Before she had fairly reasoned herself to this 
conclusion, she was on the floor, feeling around for 
her shoes. W r ith chattering teeth she hurried on 
her clothing ; the dream and the darkness made 
her very desolate. 

Turning the door knob with shaking fingers, she 
peered all around before she dared step out into the 
dim light of the cabin lamp. 

Overhead footsteps were heavy, and a rough 
voice, not the captain’s, was shouting the word of 
command; she staggered with the motion of the 
ship, down the cabin to the sofa. 

Janet’s cloak was thrown over one arm, and the 
blue woollen hood that Ellinor had found in the 


132 


IS OB E VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


depths of the trunk that day. The captain’s tar- 
paulin was on the carpet, half concealed by the 
ragged American flag that Ellinor was ripping to 
pieces. 

None of these things were like home. In the 
pale light of the swinging lamp they were more 
strange than they had appeared in the day time. 
The strangeness added to the chilliness and deso- 
lation ; she shivered from head to foot out of sheer 
nervousness; the light revealed nothing comfort- 
ing, her pillow and the darkness were less sugges- 
tive of all these unfamiliar things. Had she some- 
where lost herself ? 

Oh, for Lizette’s bright, dark face, and dear 
French words. Oh, for Madame’s placid voice, or 
petty fault-finding ! Oh, for her desk at school, 
and her hated, small room ! Oh for Lucy, and the 
garden, and her mother ! 

With a sob that choked her because it could not 
come, she sank down on the mass of bunting and 
dropped her head on Janet’s cloak. As she moved 
her hand she touched something; it felt like a 
letter. Lifting her head she espied several letters, 
some in envelopes and some the folded sheets of 
papers. 

They would be something to look at, something 


IN THE NIGHT \ 


133 


to amuse her. She was interested in studying 
penmanship ; these were all addressed to Rev. 
Prosper Dekker. 

One unsealed envelope bore a queer inscrip- ] 
tion : “ To be read one month after you have 
received it.” 

Had he read it yet ? What a strange thing for 
somebody to do ! It was very thin ; the envelope 
was thin also. Holding it np she could trace the 
writing upon the inside ; the outside was prettily 
written ; Annie must have written it. It was a 
last word of good-bye, perhaps. 

As she toyed with it, amusing herself with con- 
jectures, a step somewhere startled her. She gave 
it a jerk and tore the envelope ; the step was in the 
outer cabin. The same instant she heard the voice 
of the cabin boy. In dismay she looked down at 
the torn envelope. What would Mr. Dekker 
think ? How could she conceal the rent ? In her 
hasty attempt to press the parts together a part 
of the written sheet was pulled into the full view 
of her eyes: “ I almost died — ” and then her fas- 
cinated eyes caught other words : “ promised be- 
fore I knew what I was saying ” — “ Mother said I 
must tell” — “so ill” — “heart-broken” — “young 
and foolish ” — “ forgive me ” — “ little sister again.” 


134 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


Bel groaned in shame and sorrow and peni- 
itence ; what had she done ? What had she been 
surprised into doing ? In her shaking fingers the 
small sheet was drawn out of the torn envelope. 
It seemed to fall out of its own will; the envelope 
parted, and there it was in her hand; how much 
of it had she done herself? Had she done a 
mean thing ? Had she got up in the night to be 
a thief ? Had she read what his eyes had never 
seen ? Did she know his secret ? Had she been 
untrue to him in the night when he was asleep ? 

She sprang to her feet with the letter and en- 
velope still held guiltily in her fingers, her only 
impulse to screen herself. For one overwhelming 
instant she wished that the ship would go to the 
bottom and hide the letter and herself. 

The stove door stood open — the mass of coal at 
the top was still alive; the desire to destroy the 
letter and so prevent what, in her unreasoning 
fright she felt to be her instant detection, became 
overpowering; should she lay it on the coals? 
Then he would never discover that she had torn it 
and read it! Then he would not read it himself! 
Might she not keep it from him? Might Annie 
not change her mind? And then the envelope and 
the small closely written sheet tumbled over the 


IN THE NIGHT. 


135 


coals, and dropped of itself- — she did not drop the 
envelope — and both were shrivelling with the 
heat before she knew what she had done. 

It was too late to interfere ; she watched the 
kindling of the flame, relieved that it was too late, 
before the thought burst upon her, that he might 
miss it and inquire for it. 

The ship gave a sudden lurch and sent her with 
arms extended across to her state-room door ; her 
berth and the darkness had become a welcome pro- 
tection. Not thinking to remove her clothing she 
climbed up and rolled in, hiding her head under 
the blanket. 

Her eyes were staring wide open; were the other 
letters scattered about ? How could she meet him 
in the morning ? Where could she flee when he 
asked if any one had been up in the night ? 

She had been so quick, she always was so 
quick. What harm would the torn envelope 
have done ? 

She had never done anything quite so shameful 
in her life; her deceptions about lessons and brok- 
en rules and stolen fruit and cake, had never been 
quite so wicked as this. 

How could she go out to them in the morning ? 
Miss Janet would never have done anything like 


136 ISOBEL' S BETWEEN TIMES. 

this; even that flyaway Ellinor would be shocked 
at such a thing. 

The tramping feet overhead grew heavier ; ropes 
were creaking ; that voice' was shouting again. 
Would the ship go down? 

If she had burnt the letter for his sake, there 
might be a shadow of excuse for her; but that was 
an after-thought ; and he might have read it; and 
burning it had done him no good. He would have 
to know some day that she had taken her promise 
back. Would it be a shock? Would he be pre- 
pared, as he had said that night ? How could she 
prepare him? She was too wicked to read that 
book to-morrow ; it would be Sunday ; it might be 
Sunday already ; what could she do with herself all 
day long? “0, mamma, mamma!” she cried at 
last, ‘ I can t stay with you; nobody wants me.” 

The sweet face of Hope Devoe could not look 
upon her nor speak to her; all the motherhood she 
knew was in Isobel Kellinger, her mother’s cousin, 
who had never loved her and who did not love her 
mother’s daughter. 

Isobel Kellinger loved no one beside herself; 
she had never loved her mother with any fondness, 
and had but a half-hearted, selfish affection for her 
only sister. Her father had deserted her mother 


IN THE NIGHT . 


137 


when his two daughters were little children ; her 
mother had not loved her because she was like her 
father in appearance and disposition. When a child 
she said to her mother : “You are so cross and 
ugly I should think my father would go away. 1 
wish I could go away too.” 

In her youth and womanhood her one desire 
concerning trouble had been to run away from it, 
never to bear it, and least of all, to share the sor- 
row of another. Marietta Devoe had been forced 
to admit that her sister was wholly selfish ; she 
did not believe that she had ever had an un- 
selfish emotion or performed an unselfish action in 
her life. “ 0 mamma,” sobbed poor Bel. 


VIII. 

A If OTHER ISOBEL. 

This night, as the girl sobbed out “ mamma,” the 
mother, as sleepless as she, sat before a coal fire in 
a chamber in a handsome house in Shields. She 
had written to Bel that she would meet her there, 
and then, had anticipated the reception of her let- 
ter, by starting the next morning. She might as 
well be in one place as another; perhaps she could 
find cheaper lodgings in Shields. The considera- 
tion was a motive for starting. She seized upon 
anything that moved her. She was wearied unto 
death. She would have been glad to bury herself 
if she could have done it without dying. 

She had walked the floor wringing her hands, 
wuth hot, angry, baffled tears flowing down her 
cheeks, and then, exhausted, sunk into a chair be- 
fore the fire. 

Her life was not half lived through, and she had 

come to this ! Long ago she had ceased to love 
( 138 ) 


ANOTHER I SO BEL. 


139 


her husband; his presence, for years, had been con- 
stant irritation. He had left her very much to 
herself, allowing her to choose New York or Liv- 
erpool, Hamburg or Genoa, as her place of resi- 
dence: now and then insisting that she should 
accompany him upon his voyages, lavishing 
money upon her or altogether withholding it as 
her mood or his suited him. 

He had loved her after he lost Hope, his young, 
simple, loving wife. He had loved her through the 
capricious years of their married life. He loved 
her still, with a persistency that sometimes touched 
her. Despite the love and its almost vehement 
manifestation, she was happier away from him. 
To-night she remembered and cherished with 
resentment, his small exactions, his jealousy, his 
tyranny, his selfishness in putting his own conve- 
nience before her comfort, and then, most wearing 
of all 4 the constant, “ Hope would not do that.” 

“ Hope was a little fool,” she had thrown back 
at him one day. 

“ She was, when she trusted me,” he said, bitter- 
ly enough. 

Hope was a “ little fool,” if simplicity, forgetful- 
ness of self, and an adoring love of her husband, 
constituted a lack of wisdom. 


140 


IS OB EL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


She was a little fool when she fled from her fa- 
ther, to a man her father despised. She died 
bewailing her foolishness. Many tears dropped 
during her last days, upon the page of her Bible 
where it was written, u 0 God, thou knowest my 
foolishness.” * 

Isobel Kellinger, in her own eyes, was not a 
fool; she prided herself upon her worldly wisdom. 

In her life she said, “There is no God,” but she 
did not, therefore, regard herself as a fool. Her 
husband said it in his heart, and in his life. 

In her own right, a right her husband had 
never interfered with, she had an income of six 
hundred dollars. This she had spent upon herself, 
with constant demands upon her husband to pay 
her bills. 

“ Travelling and hotel fare is so expensive,” she 
pleaded in excuse. 

“ I have my daughter to support,” he often 
urged. 

“1 dress her,” she answered; “when has she 
cost you anything for dress ?” 

She threw her book aside, the translation of a 
French novel, and went again over her tiresome 
round of reasoning: “Her father has no money, 
he is sixty years old; worn out, beside, and fit for 


ANOTHER ISO BEL. 


141 


nothing but the Sailor’s Snug Harbor, where I 
wish he was. Hope Devoe’s child has no claim 
on me. She will make a fool of herself, like her 
mother, if she is let alone. I’ll tell her the plain 
truth, that I am not her mother — that I would 
never let her father tell hex the truth. Now the 
time has come when she must go to her mother’s 
father, for I have not enough for myself, and her 
father is as good as nobody. A second mate — 
when he should have retired and have a luxurious 
home for me.” 

If Lucy had lived, she thought sometimes; but 
Lucy had not lived. If she had, who would have 
supported her? She had no grandfather to fall 
back on. 

Lucy would have had a claim on her; this girl 
had none, even if she were so foolishly and extra- 
vagantly fond of her. It was her beauty the girl 
loved, and her beautiful dresses, and — she could be 
fascinating when she chose, and she had chosen to 
fascinate Bel. She liked to w r atch the effect of 
herself upon her enthusiastic and idealizing na- 
ture. Caresses and promises had cost nothing, 
and the poor little thing had been so forlorn and 
ready to love any one who was kind. 

She must tell her that the lovely picture she had 


142 


I SO BE VS BET WEE V TIMES. 


raved about was her own mother. She had 
searched for it, in vain, in her husband’s desk, and 
had laid it up in her heart against him that he had 
taken it away to look at and to cheer himself with. 
On the day of their parting, he to go on a long 
voyage, and she to go or stay where she would, he 
had reproached her for her unwifeliness towards 
him, and unmotherliness towards his daughter, and 
she had retorted that she hoped she would never 
have opportunity to show any more of either, for 
all she wanted was to be rid of them both. He 
had fixed his eyes upon her with a cold, intense 
light in them, and putting his teeth together, had 
said: 

“Isobel, I will never come back to trouble you.” 

“ That is too good to be true,” she returned with 
a tantalizing laugh. 

“ I would like to see my daughter again. You 
kept me from going the last time I wanted to. 
She knows very little about her old father, and she 
will never learn any good.” 

“You may intrust me to inform her,” she said, 
defiantly. After that he had come to her and 
kissed her; she did not return the kiss, but she did 
not, as she had many times, refuse to receive it. 

And then he came again, and with his gray 


ANOTHER I SO BEL. 


143 


moustache touched her forehead : “ Good-bye, 
dear.” 

“ Good-bye,” she said, moved in spite of herself. 
“I hope you will have a pleasant voyage. I will 
write to you.” 

“ And where shall I write to you ? ” 

“ Oh, to the moon,” with her careless laugh. “ I 
have no idea where I shall go after I have sent that 
girl home.” 

He lingered at the door ; she arranged her dress, 
humming a merry air, and he went away with his 
last thought unspoken upon his lips. 

“ I will never trouble her again,” he muttered, 
stumbling down the stairs, “the child will be taken 
care of.” 

The manner of parting did not trouble her ; there 
had been too many like it, and as she said, he al- 
ways u turned up again.” 

Her life was spoiled, and he had spoiled it ; he 
had persuaded her to marry him before his wife 
had been dead ten months, and, under some kind 
of infatuation, she had yielded ; he was handsome 
and gay; he promised her that she should never be 
troubled with the care of his baby daughter, she 
should have her own way, and all the money he 
could make and scrape for her. She had quarrelled 


144 


I SO BEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


with Marietta ; what better thing for herself could 
she do, and she was fond of him as she had never 
been fond of any one else. She was “fond of” 
him ; she had never loved any one in her life ; she 
would have told you that she had never seen any 
one worth it. 

Now he accused her of vanity and frivolity, and 
of driving him to desperation with her love of 
excitement and extravagance. 

Was not her list of grievances just as long ? 

Had he kept his word ? Who had been troubled 
with his daughter, if not herself, and where was 
the luxury he had promised her ? By his dis- 
honesty he had disgraced himself and her; it was 
owing to the mercy of his emplo}^ers that he was 
not in prison to-night. Was she proud to be the 
wife of a thief ? 

He had cheated one employer after another, and 
now he was discovered, he might be a common 
sailor before she saw him again, and she had 
warned him that his intemperate habits w r ould 
bring him to that and worse. He had taunted her 
with being the cause of his seeking to drown his 
troubles in drink, and told her that she was not 
the first wife who had brought a decent husband 
to shame. 


ANOTHER ISO BEL. 


145 


He was not the first husband who had brought 
a shameful name to his wife, she had returned ; he 
had never told her once that he could not afford 
to give her the money; he had growled about it, 
but she had set it down to his meanness. 

But this was all past, and she would have a 
long breathing spell; she would have to be eco- 
nomical, but she had friends in London who were 
as lively as herself, and the winter would not be 
dull. 

After all, how many women were as free ? 

Some women, Marietta, for instance, would deny 
herself the comforts of life, and make herself a per- 
fect martyr for the sake of husband and child. 
She rejoiced that there was no such stuff in her. 

Marietta would say that she ought to take care 
of her husband in his weak old age ; that she 
might love him into behaving himself. Bah ! 
how could she love him, when his breath made 
her crawl, and when his words were rough and 
wicked ? 

Poor Bel, who had never had a home, would be 
wild with delight, if she would keep her and live 
in a small lodging, and perhaps, they both could 
learn to do something to earn money. 

Some women loved to make a home ; she wanted 

10 


146 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


a home made for her; was not that what husbands 
and fathers were for ? 

Would she like to cook her own breakfast and 
do up her own white dresses ? Fancy her fingers 
stained and her face burnt over the fire ! 

A child cried out in the next rooth, a woman's 
voice hushed it to sleep, and now a man’s voice 
was speaking. 

The mother was not young, she was near forty, 
like herself; her married happiness had come late 
in life, but her face was sunshine itself, and her 
voice like a girl’s voice ; the father was past mid- 
dle age ; he was a clerk in a store among the ship- 
ping, but there was a firmness in his tread, and a 
ring in his voice that young and happy people 
had; he seemed so glad to be alive. 

Her husband would envy that man. He said he 
had not had a real home since Hope died. 

And she ? Did she envy that woman, or despise 
her for being satisfied with such a life ? 

She would not send away any girl who loved 
her. She would take her husband’s daughter as 
her own. She would work and do without things. 

“ I will not do either,” she said, aloud, with em- 
phatic deliberation. “There isn’t much in this 
world, but I’ll get all I can of it.” 


ANOTHER I SO BEL. 


147 


In her ignorance and dread of what might be, 
Bel was afraid of coming to the land. Had she 
known a part of the truth, how much more would 
she have been afraid! Had she known all the 
truth — and how God makes his own use of it, she 
would not have been afraid at all — no more than 
you and I are afraid of what is coming next. 


IX. 

SUNDAY ON SHIPBOARD. 

“Waiting must not needs be wearying,” said 
Prosper Dekker to himself that Sunday morning. 
“ It is good that a man should quietly wait.” 

He had been awakened before the dawn by 
something stirring within himself. Was it possi- 
ble that Annie’s illness was caused, not by weary- 
ing for his presence, but because of a hopeless 
regret that she had been hurried into her promise 
to him? She was such a child, he reasoned, with 
a mother’s tenderness for her; she had known no 
one among her friends to choose from, when she 
had chosen him, rather w r hen he had chosen her. 
Had he not fettered her, giving her no liberty to 
choose for herself? 

She was the soul of conscientiousness, and she 
had been afraid of hurting him when he was ill, 
and going away so far and for so long. When he 

knew every twist and turn of her heart, he had 
( 148 ) 


SUNDA Y ON SHIPBOARD. 


149 


selfishly kept himself from understanding that 
she had had no thought for herself. She had been 
pale and quiet the next one day they had had 
together, and he had attributed the change to her 
grief at parting with him. 

If it were so, what ought he in honor to do ? 

Go home, learn the truth from her lips, and set 
the poor little bird free. Might that letter not 
have something to do with it ? Had she broken 
it to him in this careful way — preparing him ? 

It was the work of an instant to rise and begin 
the search for the letter. If he were wrong, if his 
tired brain were creating wild fancies, he would ex- 
plain to her and she would pardon this breach of 
her trust. 

The letter. Was it with the others in his inner 
pocket ? Had he looked at it yesterday, or had he 
laid it away out of his temptation ? 

His state-room was searched, and then the cabin. 
The scattered letters were found on the cabin sofa, 
having slipped from his pocket the evening before, 
as he lay there awhile before retiring ; but this 
particular letter was not among them. Each en- 
velope, each sheet was shaken and held before the 
light ; but that daintily written envelope was cer- 
tainly missing. 


150 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


Every letter in his immediate possession was 
scrutinized, every book opened, every corner of his 
clothing and baggage ransacked, but that en- 
velope did not appear. Had he lost it overboard ? 
He had not even shaken his handkerchief over- 
board. Had it slipped out upon the deck ? 

In the earliest dawn he was upon the deck, pac- 
ing every foot it, with his eyes intent upon every 
square inch, even pushing a coil of rope aside and 
getting down upon his knees to feel under a piece 
of canvas. 

“Have you lost anything, sir?” inquired the 
second mate, whose watch it was upon deck. 

“An envelope, unsealed, containing a letter. I 
cannot imagine where I lost it, or wdien.” 

“ I should have noticed it. Our eyes are trained 
to see quickly.” 

“ I have not given it up, but I cannot under- 
stand how it can be lost,” said Mr. Dekker, in a 
tone of weary perplexity. 

“ Have you spoken to the captain, sir ?” 

“No; and do not mention it. I cannot be rude 
enough to speak of it. It will be like charging 
some one under his care of — but, hardly that. It 
is altogether owing to my unpardonable care- 
lessness. I would rather have lost a thousand 


SUNDAY ON SHIPBOARD. 


151 


dollar bill — if one can estimate such a loss by 
money value. ” 

“I am very sorry, sir.” 

“Thank you; but please do not mention it.” 

Another and more prolonged search was made 
in the cabin and among his possessions. With a 
sigh he threw himself into his steamer-chair. The 
question was not to be decided to-day, nor for 
many days probably. There was nothing to do 
but to write, or take the next steamer home. 

And must waiting needs be wearying ? 

Might it not be preparation? Might he not be 
so made ready for the shock, that it would hardly 
be a surprise? The Lord could tell him now; was 
he telling him now? W r as he not opening his 
eyes that he might rightly interpret her letters ? 

Was this his grief alone; was it not hers, also? 
Might she not, to-day, be enduring as much 
as he ? 

Dear little Annie, with her laughing eyes, 
her pretty household ways, her unshadowed life, 
but for this shadow of his selfish love ! 

And yet who would keep her life unshadowed 
as he would do ? After all, could any man, any 
brother, any father, love her less unselfishly ? 

He would prove it; he would give her back to 


152 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


herself. Would he write, or would he sail imme- 
diately? Would there be any risk to himself? 
Eisk ? He sprang to his feet and threw out his 
arms; was not a new life already flowing through 
his veins ? This touch in his life was like the 
touch of electricity; his brain and heart were fired; 
if his selfishness had crushed her, might not his 
unselfishness save her ? 

Bel slept late that morning, and when she tim- 
idly opened her state-room door they were gather- 
ing around the breakfast table. 

“Janet wouldn't let me call you,” said Ellinor. 

U I thank you all,” said Bel, with crimsoned 
cheeks and downcast eyes. 

“ You don't look tired,” commented Ellinor, “you 
look as pretty as a rose.” 

She had not dared glance toward the sofa; in 
her imagination the letters were still scattered 
about: she had not dared meet Mr. Dekker’s eye > 
it was an effort to look at Ellinor. 

“ Father says we shall be in the Tyne to-mor- 
row, Miss Kellinger,” said Janet, “are you as 
glad as we are ?” 

“ I am very glad,” returned Bel. 

“ Mr. Dekker, where shall you go next ?” in- 
quired Ellinor, as she sipped her coffee. 


SUNDAY ON SHIPBOARD . 


153 


44 I wish. I knew; my plans are changed; I am in 
great perplexity,” he said, with great intensity. 

The captain dropped his fork. Janet looked up; 
Ellinor’s coffee remained un sipped in her spoon. 
Bel felt as if she were turning into stone, or had 
turned into it. 

“ Has anything happened ?” inquired Ellinor, 
44 how could it? We are not anywhere for things 
to happen.” 

“Only between things,” he said, smiling. “My 
own carelessness has lost an important unread 
letter; not having read it I cannot decide upon my 
plan of action. I think it would upset my old 
plan of going around the world, or backward and 
forward as I pleased. I may decide to return to 
America as soon as possible.” 

“ With us ?” cried Ellinor, joyously. 

“If you will put on steam.” 

Bel thought she did not breathe. It was relief 
that he did not suspect any one ; that he did not 
suspect her ; but what should she do now ? Per- 
mit him to change his plans ? Confess the truth ? 
But it would be almost easier to die ! She could 
not do it ; it would not hurt him to go to America ; 
Annie would tell him what she had written, and 
he must know it some time. She was in such 


154 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


a tangle ; it was such a great difference for such a 
trifling thing to make. But he did not suspect 
her ; she could lift her eyes and laugh again ; she 
had refused coffee, but she would take it now, and 
she spoke to the boy in waiting as easily as she 
had spoken yesterday morning. 

The sound of her own voice did not frighten 
her; she would read and enjoy her book and look 
forward to to-morrow. No one could ever know 
unless she told the story herself. 

Before she was aware, she was laughing at 
nothing, and when Ellinor asked her what it was, 
she replied — with the first suggestion that came 
to her — “If you and your folks only loved me and 
my folks — ” 

When the laughter subsided — and the captain 
had looked sternly at Janet because she was be- 
guiled into laughter on the Sabbath day — Ellinor 
was ready with another question. 

“Mr. Dekker, what shall you do in America ?” 

“Go to work at something,” be replied, gloom- 
ily. “ I have disobeyed, and I am paying the pen- 
alty. The Lord bids his servants work in his 
vineyard ; he never yet bid them overwork. It is 
folly to crowd the work of five years into three, 
and then, do nothing the remaining two years.” 


SUNDAY ON SHIPBOARD. 


155 


“It ain’t common sense,” remarked the captain. 
“ I should think college folks would know better.” 

After breakfast, Ellinor climbed up into one of 
what she called the “ stern window seats” of the 
cabin, and read Judges through ; outside her 
small window she could see nothing but the water 
and the foam following the wake of the ship. She 
sat there only on Sundays. She called it “going 
to church.” Janet stationed herself on the tran- 
som, a long seat across the stern, and under the 
windows, comfortably cushioned, and invited Bel 
to bring her book and come, too. For two hours 
Bel kept her eyes upon her book, fascinated, 
thrilled, believing, awed and yet loving the Creator 
and Redeemer, of whom it seemed to her, that she 
was learning about for the first time. 

And he was alive to-day, for he had risen from 
the dead. He was as much alive to her as to Mary, 
to whom he had spoken that Sunday morning in 
the garden. 

He was with Mary in the garden. He was with 
the disciples in the ship. Was he with her — in 
the ship — last night? She held her breath, she 
stifled the sigh; Ellinor must not catch a sound, or 
she would lift that quick head of hers and ask the 
inevitable question. W T as he with her last night 


156 


ISO BEDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


when she stole that letter and dropped it down 
among the coals ? Why did he not stay her hand ? 
Why did he stand near her and let her be so 
wicked ? 

“ Mr. Dekker ! ” She looked np at him, — in his 
walking np and down, he had reached the tran- 
som, near w T here she sat, and spoke courageously : 
“ I cannot understand why God lets people be so 
wicked ! ” 

He stayed his steps and stood still, thinking a 
moment. 

“ If you were up on the deck with a child three 
years old, and the little thing was toddling around 
and came near the steps, would you be afraid it 
would fall down — over the steps ?” 

“Not if I were there — near enough to hold it 
back.” 

“ Suppose the man at the wheel should start for- 
ward to catch it, wondering how you could be so 
heartless to let it go so near danger — into danger, 
in fact — ” 

“ He would not — if he saw me always there.” 

“ Why not ?” 

“ If he knew it were my child, and I could see 
where it was, and had hands to hold it back, I 
think he might trust me not to let it go too far.” 


SUNDAY ON SHIPBOARD . 


157 


“ Have you answered your question ?” 

“That God will not let me go too fan?” 

“Yes.” 

“But why does he let me sin at all ?” 

“If the scarlet fever always stayed in and never 
came to the surface, how would anybody know it 
was scarlet fever ? How could the patient be 
treated for it ? Christ is the Great Physician. He 
knows you have sin in your heart, but unless it 
break out in action, how do you know it ? And if 
you do not know it, how could you go to him to be 
healed of it ? As soon as he sees the plague spot, 
he says: ‘That is the heart: that has burst out of 
a heart full of sin. It will not do any good to 
cleanse the outside, I must go to the root of the 
disease and take that heart out and give her an- 
other.’ As skin diseases are a sure evidence that 
the blood is impure, so your sin is a sure evi- 
dence that your heart is impure. For my part, I 
am glad when mine breaks out, for it shows me 
the state of my heart, and then, if I do not go to 
the Physician it is my own fault. God does per- 
mit us to sin far enough to show us that we must 
go to him — he lets us sin because he has the right, 
and the power, and the love to forgive us, — -just as 
you have the right to let the child go near danger, 


158 


I SOB ELS BETWEEN TIMES. 


because you can pull it back. Do you know when 
sin entered the world ?” 

“ With Adam.’’ 

“ When was that?” 

“ When he was first made.” 

“ Do you know what happened before Adam was 
made ?” 

“No.” 

“ In God’s mind and heart Christ was slain for 
sin. He was slain from the foundation of the 
world, before Adam sinned — before Adam sinned 
God knew how he could forgive him. All Adam 
had to do was to be sorry for liis sin, and have it 
washed out of God’s remembrance by the blood 
that was shed for that very purpose before he 
sinned. Christ died for you before you were born, 
that he might forgive your sin. If he loved you 
like that, do you question his right to permit you 
to sin ? ” 

“No,” with quick assurance. 

“ And what next ? ” 

“ I would not sin any more if I could help it.” 

“ Can’t you help it ? ” 

“ No, sir; how can I ?” with sincere sorrow. 

Janet and Ellinor were listening ; the captain 
was wide awake over his Bible on the sofa down at 


SUNDAY ON SHIPBOARD. 


159 


the other end of the cabin; he had thought of 
asking the minister to preach to them, but he 
rather thought this little sermon would do instead. 

“ I am sure you cannot.” 

“ Then what can I do about it ? ” asked Bel, in 
much distress. She had forgotten herself ; she had 
forgotten last night. 

“ Nothing.” 

“Nothing !” she repeated, startled. 

“ Only ask God to do something.” 

“ What shall I ask him to do ?” 

“ Ask him to give you the sorrow for sin and the 
faith in him that he has had laid up for you since 
before the foundation of the world, when Christ 
was slain for Adam’s sin and yours.” 

“ Is it all there for me ? ” 

“It is all there for you — and for every one who 
asks for it. It has been there all this time, waiting 
for you. Christ was slain from the foundation of the 
world — his forgiven ones have been chosen in him 
before the foundation of the world — and his king- 
dom has been prepared for them from the founda- 
tion of the world. And, now, in the face of all that, 
can you not believe that when God permits you to 
sin it is in his mercy, that you may know you are 
a sinner, and so go to him for his forgiveness.” 


160 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ How did I become a sinner?” she questioned, 
almost angrily. 

“ You call yourself an American ? ” 

“ I am an American.” 

“Why?” 

“ Because I was born in America, of American 
parents.” 

“ And you are a sinner because you were born a 
sinner, of sinful parents.” 

“Is that all the reason? No: it cannot be; I 
am a sinner because I have sinned.” 

He walked away. Ellinor went back to Judges, 
not having asked a single question ; Bel’s cheeks 
were burning; now that it was over, she wondered 
how she had ever dared. But she would never 
forget; she would think over and over what he 
had said. 

“Where is your Bible ? I would like to mark 
something for you,” he said, coming back to her. 

Her small Testament w r as in her pocket; she 
handed it to him ; he faintly lined the place he 
soon found, and returned it. Ellinor was looking 
curious. 

“ Can’t 1 know what it is? ” she asked. 

Bel read the words aloud : 

“Or a celui qui peut vous presever de toute 


SUNDA Y ON SHIPBOARD. 


161 


chute et vous faire paraitre sans tache et combles 
do joie en sa glorieuse presence.” 

Her face was alight ; he could keep her from 
falling as easily as any mother could keep her child 
at the head of that stairway ! 

“ What is it in English ? ” inquired Janet. 

Mr. Dekker repeated: “ Now unto him that is 
able to keep you from falling and to present you 
faultless before the presence of his glory with 
exceeding joy. To the only wise God our Saviour 
be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both 
now and ever. Amen.” 

Able to keep her from falling and to present her 
faultless. It was all as wonderful as new. 

“ He will forgive the past and keep you now 
and ever, and then with exceeding joy present you 
before the presence of his father,” said Mr. Dekker, 
in his strong, safe voice. 

And all for the asking; that was the most won- 
derful part of it, Bel was thinking. 

“We have to try hard ourselves,” commented 
Ellinor, as if understanding Bel’s thought. 

“ And repent, and forsake our sins,” said the 
captain, in his sternest voice. “If we have done 
any one a wrong, we must make restitution.” 

In an instant Bel’s cheeks where blanched; the 

11 


162 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


small volume trembled in her fingers ; must she con- 
fess that? Must she tell Mr. Dekker about it, as 
well as pray about it ? 

She could never, never do that ! She could re- 
store money, but how could she restore a destroyed 
piece of paper? she had read so little of it; if she 
told him a part, she could not tell him all. 

As long as he did not suspect her, she had felt 
that she might be at peace; but now, even if no 
thought of it entered his mind, could she ask God 
to forgive her and keep her from falling, unless she 
made “ restitution ” to the one she had wronged? 
To the amazement of them all, she sprang to her 
feet with a stifled cry upon her lips, and fled to the 
shelter of her state-room. 

“ She’s queer !” exclaimed Ellinor, decidedly. 

“ She’s worked up about her sins,” explained the 
captain. “ It’s a good sign. I believe in conviction 
going deep, and peace not coming too soon. 
You’re a young saint, Mr. Dekker, and I’m an old 
sinner; take my advice, and don’t smooth truths 
over; repentance has got to be sincere, and forsak- 
ing has got to be sure to get those good things laid 
up since the world begun. ’ ? 


X. 


WAITING TIMES. 

Two steamers towed the Goodspeed up the 
Tyne, and before supper time she was anchored at 
a wharf in the smoky town of Shields. Bel’s one 
thought, crowding down the joy of meeting her 
mother, was, Mr. Dekker would go to London or 
somewhere, and she would never see him again. 
There would be nothing to remind her that she 
must make “ restitution.” Perhaps she might slip 
away from the others and not be compelled to bid 
him good-bye. 

Ellinor called to her to come up on deck. She 
obeyed reluctantly, for looking up through the 
skylight she saw Mr. Dekker, standing near it; 
but Ellinor was impatient, and she had to go. 
Several strangers were on board ; one rosy-cheeked 
young fellow was in conversation with Janet; Bel 
wondered at her, and listened ; she was talking to 

him about slavery, and Uncle Tonis Cabin . 

( 163 ) 


164 


I SO BEDS BETWEEN TIMES, 


“What a Yankee girl you are!*’ thought Bel, 
with a touch of contempt. “ What would Made- 
moiselle think ! ” 

“It’s so good to hear English,” cried Ellinor. 
“Our policemen don’t look like those fellow's, 
either. And such funny little ferry boats ! How 
could you stay down there? You will never know 
how to travel ! Will your mother come for you 
to-day ? ” 

“I hope so. I suppose she will learn that the 
ship has arrived.” 

“ We shall stay on board; it’s cheaper than going 
to a hotel, and you can stay as long as you want 
to, you know,” comforted Ellinor. “You don’t 
have to feel lost.” 

“I shall be lost soon,” said Bel; “ when I go to 
America, I shall be lost.” 

“ Not if you go with us,” said Ellinor confidently. 

“I am not sure of that, or anything.” 

“We can have fires on board, and lights. Eng- 
land isn’t like that horrid Havre about such 
things.” 

Bel waited up on deck until the lights twinkled 
through the town. Her mother had sent no ad- 
dress ; she had written only that she would come 
to her. 


WAITING TIMES . 


165 


44 She will not come to-night,” said the captain, 
at the tea table; 44 she can’t have heard of our arri- 
val.” 

44 You must stay on the hurricane deck till she 
comes,” laughed Ellinor, 44 you know Casabianca 
did.” 

44 You will want to go to Newcastle with us to- 
morrow,” said Janet. 44 Mr. Dekker is going too. 
There’s a museum there — and a church, marvel- 
lously old, founded before the battle of Hastings, 
Mr. Dekker says.” 

Bel did not look interested ; what was church or 
museum to her ? She must flee from Mr. Dekker; 
and she must have her mother. 

44 How do you like living on the top of a coal 
mine, Miss Kellinger?” questioned the captain; 
44 that is what Shields is.” 

44 1 would rather live on top than below,” said 
Isobel. 

44 We shall take hundreds of tons home,” an- 
nounced Ellinor : 44 the ship has got to go deep in 
the water.” 

She made listless replies all through supper 
time, and decidedly refused to go up and walk on 
deck, when Janet began to persuade her. Ten 
minutes later she regretted it, for Mr. Dekker re- 


166 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


mained below also, throwing himself at full length 
into his steamer chair, and taking out his note 
book to write several letters in pencil upon sheets 
of paper he found w T ithin. 

Isobel sat under the swinging lamp, and thought 
she was reading; she kept her eyes upon the page, 
and was aware printed words were upon it. Mr. 
Dekker’s fingers were moving so rapidly that she 
was sure he must have decided upon something. 

If he should allude to the lost letter, or to 
his plans, what would become of her ? How could 
he sit there writing so quietly; how could his 
voice sound so even and rested; her heart was all 
in a flutter and her lips feverishly dry. 

Her mother was in the town among the lights ! 
and she had not seen her for so long ! and_ she 
must leave her so soon, as soon as those hundreds 
of tons were stored in the ship ; and see her again, 
when ? 

“ I would almost work under ground in the 
mines, if I might stay with her.” 

The words were not in the book; there was 
nothing in the book; it sw r ayed in her listless 
fingers and fell into her lap. At the movement 
Mr. Dekker raised his eyes ; he had directed and 
sealed his letters. 


WAITING TIMES . 


167 


“ Do you know anything about the Basques ?” 
he asked, in a voice that seemed to belong to 
another world. 

“ The Basques V she repeated stupidly. 

“ The Basque province is on both slopes of the 
Pyrenees; the Basques are French as well as 
Spanish. Some of them have immigrated to the 
South American provinces.” 

“ Yes,” assented Isobel, not understanding one 
syllable. 

“ They claim great antiquity ; they make even 
China rather recent. When some one said to a 
Basque: u Do you know that my family is a 
thousand years old?” the Basque returned: “In 
my family w r e ceased counting more than a thou- 
sand years ago.” 

A look of interest dawned in Isobel’s eyes. 

“ One of their theories is that they descended 
from the race that peopled the lost island of At- 
lantis that Plato writes about. I wonder if you 
know about Atlantis ?” 

“ No, sir; I never heard of it.” 

“ One of the theories about that is that it was 
the Garden of Eden. Another of their theories is 
that they are descended from Adam and Eve by 
the shortest possible line. They are mentioned in 


168 


I SO BEDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


the Commentaries of Caesar. All school girls 
read Caesar.” 

“ I did not read far,” said Bel; “ I never got far 
in anything.” 

“The Basques speak the same language and 
wear the same costumes that their forefathers did 
when the Roman Emperor was in Gaul.” 

“Are you going there ?” She asked the question 
with heightened color. 

“ I wish I might ; 1 would have a glorious 
time.” 

The girls were coming down the stairway 
laughing ; Bel hastily opened her book ; it would 
shield her from questions ; it was almost impossi- 
ble to talk to-night, and scarcely easier to listen. 
To-morrow would bring her mother, or a message; 
if not, she would feel that she must rush out into 
the town to find her. 

“Mustn’t lever notice people’s faults?” Ellinor 
was asking in the passage, in a tone of tearful 
vexation. 

Clearly her sister had been administering rebuke. 

“ Only that we may avoid them,” was the reply, 
in Janet’s peculiarly older-sister tone; “for what 
other reason should we ?” 

Isobel had the impression gathered from the con- 


WAITING TIMES. 


169 


versations between the two, that Janet was ready 
to “ preach ” at a moment’s notice. 

And had Ellinor been noticing her “ faults? ” 

The captain entered behind the girls and tossed 
his hat across to the table; he had told Isobel 
that morning that he had put his “ shore clothes ” 
on. 

He was a gentleman, Bel supposed, but how dif- 
ferent from either of the Mr. Dekkers ! 

“ Mr. Dekker,” he observed, “ I am looking for- 
ward to a good time of thanking God when I get 
to heaven — if I am so happy as to get there.” 

“ He can hear you now,” replied Mr. Dekker, 
quietly. 

“Do you know what makes growing old hard to 
a man?” asked the captain, with the emphasis of 
one who had been thinking about it. “ It is that 
every year he lives he learns what his mistakes 
have done for him and other people. Looking 
backward and seeing how the past has made the 
present, is enough to set a man crazy, unless he 
believed in the God who knows how to set things 
straight.” 

“We do not need to grow old to discover the 
result of some mistakes,” said Mr. Dekker. 

“ But you said — ” began Isobel, her eyes alight. 


170 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Yes, I said every permitted thing as well as 
every ordained thing, is in mercy. 1 almost think 
I enjoy being in a quandary. It is very interest- 
ing to watch the way we are twisted around in it, 
or led out of it. A man doesn’t usually fret him- 
self sick devising plans to assist his lawyer ; so 
after our Advocate has taken my case into his 
hands, it is very wise for us to let it alone.’ 

The captain gave one of his hearty assents. 

“Mr. Dekker, what are you going to do to- 
morrow ?” questioned Ellinor. 

“ I think I shall go round the other way,” he re- 
turned, looking at her seriously. 

“Which other way?” asked the captain. “Go 
east by starting west ?” 

“An old horse who was used six days in the 
week in a lime kiln, fell into the habit, when 
he was let alone Sunday, of getting up at the 
usual hour, and going to work after his own fashion, 
which was going round the other way. He had 
learned the best way of resting himself and mak- 
ing himself ready for Monday morning. For a 
whole year and longer, if need be, I shall go around 
the way contrary to my old ways for the last ten 
years. I shall shuffle my old self off.” 

Each one regarded him in silent amazement. 


WAITING TIMES . 


171 


“ I think I would like to learn a trade ; at any 
rate, I shall go to work somehow with my hands. 
My hands are the contrary way to my brain.” 

“ As if handiwork needed no brains ! For shame, 
Mr. Dekker,” cried Janet. 

“ Not brain work in the same direction, then ; 
my brain shall go around the other way, if that 
please you better — or shock you less.” 

“I’d advise you to go to farming,” said the cap- 
tain. 

“ Capital! Thank you, sir. You’ve said it for 
me. I’ll go home and buy a small farm.” 

“ Do you know anything about it ? ” asked the 
captain, suggestively. 

“ I was on a farm for the first remembered years 
of my life; several of them — I know wheat from 
rye when I see it growing.” 

“ Are you in earnest ? ” Janet inquired, in indig- 
nant surprise. 

“ Never more so. Your father has said the right 
thing.” 

“ He always does,” said Ellinor. 

Going around the world has lost its zest. A farm 
will be a good place to rest and work between 
times all my life.” 

“ Do your expect lots of them ? ” asked Ellinor. 


172 


ISOBEL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Lots of them,” he repeated. “ A friend of mine 
over-worked and was in the Asylum for the In- 
sane an entire year, and he is doing glorious work 
now. That was his between times ; my acres will 
be better.” 

Between times! That was Madame’s way of 
putting it; the words were not quite familiar to her, 
but there was a restfulness and a vigor in the ring 
of them that pleased her. She had done a shame- 
ful thing in her between times ; she could not 
believe that Mr. Dekker ever would do one shame- 
ful thing. 

“ On which side of the world?” asked the cap- 
tain. 

“ Oh, in the New World ; I do not relish mak- 
ing a foreigner of myself ; I shall find a green spot 
on the Atlantic shore ; I know the very place— it 
is within three miles of the ocean, a short walk; a 
long road leads to it with trees on each side ; it is 
an old, low, farmhouse. It was for sale when I 
left home ; I spent a vacation there with A 
scarcely perceptible pause, and the name on his lips 
was changed to “ friends. 

“ It is thirty miles or more from Perez ; he is on 
grandfather’s farm when he is at home. He rests 
by the way ; there's no break down about him.” 


WAITING TIMES. 


173 


“Mr. Dekker,” Bel found courage to ask, “why 
do you not go to the Basque provinces ? ” 

“Oh, I am too modern ; I am a creature of to- 
day.” His tone was as lighted-hearted as a boys: 
one listener decided that he could not be very 
4 • deep ” in his heart, if he were in his brain. 

“And when you are rested?” asked Janet, still 
somewhat indignant. 

“The work to which I have been called; there is 
nothing else in the world for me to do.” 

“ I am very glad,” said Janet, relieved and sat- 
isfied. 


XI. 

isobel’s mother. 

“ Bel, don’t dawdle about the room ! You make 
me nervous.” 

Bel had not learned the exact translation of 
“ dawdle,” but she felt that she was doing the thing 
signified : she was looking at things and touching 
things with aimless fingers and eyes. 

Her mother was lying upon the bed, propped up 
by pillows, in a cream merino wrapper, trimmed 
profusely with narrow cardinal velvet ; the color 
was burning deep in her cheeks, her eyes were 
large and luminous. 

“ Mamma,” said the daughter, laying aside the 
bronze paper weight she had been fingering, “I 
never saw you look so beautiful as you do to-day.” 

“ Bring me the glass and let me see.” 

The flush of gratified vanity with which Mrs. 
Kellinger surveyed herself, increased the beauty of 
cheek and eye. 

( 174 ) 


ISO BEDS MOTHER. 


175 


She smiled as she handed the small glass to Bel, 
and said with a little apologetic laugh: “You 
know I can’t help it.” 

“ Does it make people love you ?” asked Bel. 

“ It makes you love me P 

“Yes,” said Bel, thoughtfully, “I love you for 
that, and because you are my oivn mother, more 
than for anything else.” 

“You haven’t much to love me for, that is 
true.” 

“I do not know about mothers; there were none 
at school, and Lizette had no mother.” 

“Come and sit down by me; I want to talk to 
you.” 

Perching herself on the side of the bed, Bel 
caught her hand and kissed it ; then held it, fond- 
ling the pink-tipped fingers. 

“ Child, you are too French ! I don’t like such 
airs. You make me nervous.” 

Instantly the hand was dropped, and Bel sat 
coldly upright. “ I’ve got to tell you something 
before you go home, and I may as well tell quick 
and get through it. It has kept me awake all 
night; but don’t you go into French hysterics, for 
if you do, I shall faint away myself. That picture 
you saw r — Hope Devoe — ” 


176 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ Yes,” said Bel, averting her face; for had she 
not stolen that ? 

“ She was your mother , and 1 am not your mother ; 
and that’s why I have let you alone. I was jeal- 
ous because you are like your mother, and kept 
your father away. Don’t turn so white ! Bel !” 
springing up, and catching her in both arms, 
“what’s the matter? Speak to me ! Have I killed 
you?” 

But the girl could not speak; Mrs. Kellinger 
thought she could not breathe ; her head had 
fallen forward, her eyes were wide open, she was 
as motionless as if indeed she had ceased to 
breathe. 

The shrieks of Mrs. Kellinger brought assistance 
from the next room and the floor below; women 
hurried to and fro with ammonia and mustard and 
hot water; Mrs. Kellinger was powerless excepting 
with tears and moans. She had killed her; had 
killed the one who loved her best; and now she 
knew her own heart, there was no one in the 
world to her like this girl, lying there with all the 
appearance of death. 

“ It’s a dead faint ! Did she ever faint before ?” 
asked one of the women. 

“ No, she was never sick in her life.” 


IS OB EL'S MOTHER. 


177 


“ The doctor will be here soon,” comforted 
another woman; “she isn't dead. I have seen 
people faint before this.” 

Before the doctor’s quick tread was upon the 
stairs Isobel was lying where her mother had 
lain, as helpless as an infant, with her eyes 
closed, and the faint breath touching her lips; 
the ammonia had brought color to her face, but 
for that and the still breathing, she might yet 
be as one dead. 

All that day she lay motionless, speaking only 
when addressed, refusing all nourishment, not 
even returning the pressure of Mrs. Kellinger’s 
fingers. 

“ Bel, do you forgiye me ?” whispered Mrs. Kel- 
linger, bending over her in the dim light of the 
next morning. 

“I do not know,” she muttered, faintly. 

“You do not love me now!” she pleaded, 
brokenly. 

“I do not think— I do. I do not love anybody 
— I cannot think.” 

The tears were stealing from out the closed lids, 
her lips were pallid, her fingers were moving ner- 
vously ; she did not appear yet to be quite alive. 

“You will be willing to go to America now — to 
12 


178 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


your mother’s lather ? ” she questioned, anxiously, 
seeking to arouse her. 

“ I would rather go to my mother ! I want my 
own mother,” she moaned, in pitiful appeal. 

The impulsive woman at her side burst into a 
passion of weeping; Isobel did not lift her hand or 
speak one word to comfort her ; she wondered as 
if in a dream at her own hard-heartedness ; she 
would fondle any creature who was hurt, and now, 
some one was weeping in loud agony, and she did 
not seem to care at all. 

Another and another day she lay upon the bed, 
too weak to rise, too careless whether she lived or 
died, to take any means of restoration ; and when 
remonstrated with she replied that she desired to 
die, she must go to her mother. 44 Mamma ” had 
once trembled on her lips, but it was instantly 
changed to 44 Madame.” 

“ I deserve it,” was Mrs. Kellinger’s self-reproach, 
“but there was something 1 liked about the sweet 
way she said 4 mamma ; ’ it was helping me to be- 
come motherly.” 

Upon the tenth day Mrs. Kellinger said to her, 
standing with a glass of milk at her side: 44 The 
doctor says you will die if you do not eat.” 

“Then certainly I will not eat; you know I want 


I SO BEL'S MOTHER. 


179 


to die ; I would rather go to heaven than to Amer- 
ica. I have not any one to love me here, and my 
own mother is is heaven.” 

“ That’s pretty talk ! 1 am out of all manner of 

patience with you. I am paying your board here, 
and the doctor’s bill, and I haven’t half money 
enough for myself. Your father is not doing any- 
thing for you. I have done a great deal for you. 
You are a very ungrateful girl.” 

Instantly Isobel lifted herself with indignant 
strength, and snatching the glass from her hand, 
drained it. 

“ I will grow strong enough not to be any 
more expense to you,” she said, distinctly and 
decidedly. 

“ Anything, if you will only eat,” muttered Mrs. 
Kellinger; “I can’t stand it to see you lie there 
and die; I feel like a murderer. Bel, I want to 
be good to you, dear.” 

u Do the girls come every day ? ” asked Bel, fall- 
ing back into the pillows, heedless of her tender- 
ness. 

“ Mr. Dekker came yesterday and said he would 
come again this morning; he is going away, and 
he wanted to see you before he went.” 

“Will you dress me, then? I must see him; I 


180 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


have something to say to him,” she cried, in eager 
haste. 

With one other touches of penitence, Mrs. Kel- 
linger arrayed the girl in one of her own prettiest 
wrappers; it was white with white lace about it. 
The girl smiled as she looked down at it, under- 
standing the love that prompted the pretty atten- 
tion. 

u Madame,” she said, lifting her arms to entwine 
them about the neck bent so near her, “I do love 
you; I have to love somebody, and I have not any 
one else. You are very kind to me.” 

There was something besides the quick kiss left 
upon Isobel’s forehead; there was a quick tear. 
Who loved her ? Had she any one else ? Would it 
not be sweet to keep this sweet girl, and have the 
old name come back to her ? The gay life she had 
planned would not give her hours like this. 

Lucy had called her “mamma;” there would 
never be any one to call her mamma again ! She 
had said she hated it, that it made her too “ old ; ” 
despite her love of the world there was so little 
left in it for her ; there was nothing when she was 
frightened, as she often was, when she awoke in 
the dark. 

A coal fire burned in the grate; the sunshine was 


I SO BEL'S MOTHER. 


181 


always dimmed in “ smoky ” Shields, and the light 
that came through the half closed blinds seemed 
but a faint reflection of sunlight. The r.oom held 
everything for an invalid’s comfort; Isobel was be- 
coming attached to it, there was a homeness about 
it that she would be glad to keep. 

“ Do you wish to see Mr. Dekker alone ? ” 

“ Yes, Madame,” with measured courtesy. 

“ What for ? There hasn’t been any ” 

“Any what?” asked Isobel, innocently. 

“Flirtation,” laughed the woman of the world. 

“ What is that ?” asked the school-girl. 

“ Is that an English word you do not know ? ” 

“ I have seen it; I do not know its exact mean- 
ing.” 

“ Neither do I. The meaning is in the mind of 
the one who speaks it. It is not a word for you to 
think about. What a child you are ! How old I 
was at your age ! ” 

Isobel played with the lace at her wrist; hesi- 
tated, stammered, and at last spoke clearly: “I 
did a shameful thing ; I wish to confess to him ; I 
have been thinking about it since I have been so 
ill ; it has made a great and real difference to him. 
I burned a letter that he had not yet read, from a 
girl in America whom he wishes to marry — ” 


182 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


Mrs. Kellinger’s astonishment expressed itself in 
prolonged exclamation ; at last she asked: “What 
on earth did you do that for? Were you jealous 
of the girl ? ” 

“ Jealous !” repeated Bel, proudly. “I do not 
understand you, Madame.” 

“ What did you do it for, then ? ” with quick 
distrust. 

“To shield myself; to conceal what I had done; 
I had torn it and read a part of it.” 

“ What possessed you, child ? ” 

“I do not know; it was partly an accident. I 
do not think any of it was intentional except the 
burning. It has changed his plans; I must tell 
him.” 

“ Let his plans go. He is a man, let him take 
care of himself; if it were an accident I don’t see 
how you are to blame.” 

“ But he should know it,” persisted Isobel. 

“ And despise you for doing it! You are making 
the case out against yourself. I never tell any- 
thing against myself; if you have made a friend 
of him, why are you willing to lose him ?” 

“ I have not thought of him as my friend.” 

“ Well, he is. He is interested in you. He is a 
friend worth having.” 


I SO BEDS MOTHER. 


183 


“ It is hard to tell him ; I thought it was impossi- 
ble — but I must do right. 5 ’ 

“Do right!’ 5 scornfully; “what high notions 
have you got into your head ? It is right for a 
girl to take care of herself; he will be very 
angry.’ 5 

“ He cannot hurt me,” said Bel, half smiling. 

“You are not strong enough for the excitement 
of it. I forbid you to see him ; I am your nurse 
and guardian. You positively shall not see him 
unless you promise me not to speak of this silly 
affair.” 

Bel’s weak lips stiffened into very stern lines. 

“You are not my mother.” 

The indescribable tone, the pride, the rebellion, 
the hurt of it, even, brought a flash into the eyes 
fixed upon the girl. 

“ I am your guardian, instead of your father, if 
you wish to put it in that way ; he would not con- 
sent to your making yourself worse, when you 
have to sail next week. The Goodspeed is almost 
loaded. I have made arrangements for you to go 
to America, under Captain Dermot’s care.” 

“If I am strong enough,” moaned Bel. “I do 
not like to think of that state-room.” 

“You will never be strong enough with such 


184 


IS OB EES BETWEEN TIMES. 


worries on your mind. I knew something was the 
matter with you — beside — ” 

“ It will be on my mind, until I get it off, by 
telling Mr. Dekker.” 

“And faint away again ! ” 

“ That is a little thing now. I shall never be 
troubled over little things again.” 

“ You hear what I say ? You shall not see him 
unless you promise.” 

“ Will you take my word ? ” pleaded Isobel. 

“ I shall stay in the room and enforce my own.” 

The blue eyes were as undeniably angry as the 
black eyes. Bel’s lips were not less firm than her 
guardian’s. If it were often to be like this, was 
she not glad to go away? And it must often be 
that the two strong wills would clash. Her stan- 
dard of right, she had learned in these few days, 
was infinitely higher. To confess to Mr. Dekker 
was simply right in her eyes, and her blessed right 
to do it; she could not make “restitution” for his 
lost property; she could only repeat to him the 
words she had read; to “Madame,” as in her 
thoughts she had begun to think of her mother, it 
was preposterous foolishness. Would not some 
other things in her Testament be “ silly,” also ? 

Mrs. Kellinger stepped to the mantel and began 


I SO BE US MOTHER. 


185 


to arrange the few ornaments upon it; she was 
trembling with anger ; the angry light had faded 
from Isobel’s eyes, but she did not feel that she 
had conquered. 

Who ever conquered Hope Devoe — and was not 
this girl, in spite of the differences in education, 
another Hope Devoe ? Had she not been deceitful 
about the letter, and was not that her mother all 
over again ? But had her mother ever wished to 
confess like this ? Had she not ? What heart- 
broken and repentant letters she had written to her 
father ! She was certainly not Hope Devoe when 
she died ; and this girl might be the changed Hope 
Devoe, with the strong will unchanged. In that 
case how could they two live under one roof as 
mother and daughter ? Still she loved her all the 
better for it ; this girl was something better than 
Hope Devoe had ever been. 

If this “confessing” were one of the ideas 
learned at school, how many other troublesome 
ways she must have ! Her decision should not be 
recalled; she should go in the Goodspeed. The 
doctor declared there was nothing the matter with 
her but weakness and stubbornness; the sea air 
would build her up, and she would have nothing 
to be stubborn about, when she was away from her. 


186 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Isobel Kellinger, that man shall not enter this 
room unless you promise.” 

“ Perhaps I can go out of the room,” was the 
defiant retort. 

With two bounds Mrs. Kellinger was at the 
door, the key was turned, and then triumphantly 
deposited in her pocket. 

“ Is he going soon ? ” Bel asked, undisturbed. 

“ You will see him — or not see him, for the last 
time, to-day.” 

“ Perhaps he would not go if he knew what was 
in the letter, mamma ! Can’t you see that it makes 
a difference ? ” 

“ I do not care whether he goes or stays, he is 
nothing to me. And it is something to me to have 
you ready to sail next week. My own plans will 
be spoiled, otherwise.” 

Weak, rebellious, baffled tears rolled slowly down 
Isobel’s thin cheeks; she was forced to yield, but 
she had not wavered, or submitted. In her heart 
she had confessed to him ; God would forgive her 
now. 

“ Madame, my Testament is in the pocket of my 
gray dress ; will you give it to me, please ?” in a 
broken voice. 

“ Your Testament ! I should think you would 


I SO BEL'S MOTHER . 


187 


want to read it. You are a very bad girl, and 
I would advise you to say all the prayers you 
know.” 

“ I am bad,” acknowledged Isobel, penitently, 
“ and that is why I want to see Mr. Dekker ; but you 
are worse than bad, you are wicked \ to keep me 
from doing right.” 

A provoking laugh was the only reply. How 
often that laugh had driven her husband to des- 
perate words. Her sweet laugh won him as 
nothing beside had power to do. 

With eyes too blurred to read, and hands too 
weak to hold the little volume, Bel took it and 
slipped it under her pillow. It would be there to 
read when she was alone; she wanted to read 
about “ falling,” and “ faultless.” How could she 
become faultless when she was falling every hour ? 

“ Some time, when you can behave yourself and 
listen, I want to tell you about your grandfather 
and my sister Marietta, who will have the care of 
you.” 

“ Does she know about my mother ?” asked Iso- 
bel, eagerly. 

“ Yes, and that she was a high-tempered, deceit- 
ful thing, like you, with all her gentle eyes, and 
pretty face.” 


188 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


“0, Madame!” Isobel lifted herself on an elbow, 
“I have not told you; I took her picture out of 
papa’s desk ; it was so beautiful I wanted it. And 
I did not know she was my mother. Papa will be 
glad to let me have it, will he not ?” 

“ He has no use for it,” said Mrs. Kellinger 
coolly, “he has always cared a great deal more 
for me. The picture is yours as much as any- 
body’s. So that is the way you steal things, 
is it ?” 

“ I stole my own, that time,” laughed Isobel, in 
her gladness. 

Mrs. Kellinger smiled ; she was as much of a girl 
as the girl before her ; it was hard to array herself 
against this girl whose “ Madame ” was pleasanter 
to her than the “ wife ” spoken by her husband. 

“ Is that all you have of mamma’s ?” 

How sweet the word was ! Her real, own 
precious mamma; the mamma like her; ivas she 
deceitful and high-tempered like herself?” 

“ I never had anything of hers,” was the short 
answer. 

“ You had me, and I am hers,” said Isobel, 
proudly. 

After a moment Isobel spoke from among her 
pillows: “I have Lucy’s book, and her pretty 


I SO BEL? S MOTHER. 


189 


white dress, and a pair of slippers ; may I take 
them with me to America and keep them ?” 

The lines of her lips relaxed, the eyes filled. Mrs. 
Kellinger dropped into the nearest chair and cov- 
ered her face with both hands ; she was utterly won. 

“You break my heart; you resist my will, and 
you make me glad to send you away; and you talk 
about Lucy, and you say you love me, and you 
make me want to keep you. Oh, I wish I wasn’t 
two women !” 

Isobel’s weakness was forgotten ; before the cry 
was fully uttered, she had given a leap and thrown 
herself into Mrs. Kellinger s arms. 

“ I do love you ; you have always been good to 
me, when I had nobody else; I will be like Lucy to 
you if you will let me stay ; and I will say 6 mamma, 
dear mamma,’ as she used to when she said her 
prayers every night.” 

The two sobbed together and clung to each 
other. After all, whom had they beside each other ! 

And she had been the idolizing love of Isobel’s 
childhood and girlhood. 

“ But your grandfather has a right to you ; the 
next right after your father, and I promised him I 
would send you; I have promised your father and 
grandfather too.” 


190 


I SO BE US BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ But you can let the ship go, and keep me 
awhile ; you know how ill I have been,” pleaded 
Isobel with a caress. There was a tap at the door; 
Mrs. Kellinger opened it, and the maid announced 
“ Mr. Dekker, to see Miss Kellinger.” 

“ Say Mrs. Kellinger will be down in five min- 
utes.” 


XII. 


HER PROMISE. 

The two stood looking at each other ; in Isobel’s 
attitude there was appeal, in Mrs. Ivellinger’s res- 
olution. 

“ 0, mamma, if you let me tell him, I will prom- 
ise, solemnly promise to eat everything you bring, 
and to go to sleep every night.” 

The resolution w r as evidently weakened. 

“ 0 mamma, dear mamma, please” 

Mrs. Kellinger scrutinized her from head to 
foot. 

“Brush your hair, smooth out your dress, bathe 
your eyes — there’s cologne on my table — sit down 
and be quiet, and I’ll send him up.” 

Isobel obeyed in every particular ; he would 
think her changed ; her hands were so thin, and 
how big her eyes were ; perhaps he would not be 
so angry now that she was ill. 

Very gravely and shyly she received him, rising 

( 191 ) 


192 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


to meet him at the door ; he led her to a chair and 
seated himself beside her. 

“Your mother said you were changed ! How ill 
you have been. I thought you were a very Hebe.’’ 

“I am not ill now. I have begun to grow 
strong.” 

“ Since when?” he said, smiling, then suddenly 
grew grave, with the thought that he might find 
his bright little Annie even more changed. 

“ Are the girls still having a good time ? ” 

“ Janet and Ellinor ? 0 yes. I see them 

every day. Ellin or’s journal still flourishes, and 
Janet reads her specified number of pages and 
goes everywhere.” 

Now was the time ! How should she say it ? 
In the night, as she lay awake, it had seemed so 
easy; h£r words came without an effort — and now 
— she felt as if she were choking ; her throat was as 
dry as if filled with dust. 

“ I am still in my quandary. I seem to make 
plans, but to change them. Mrs. Pierrepont writes 
me, that she will sail for Italy the first of Septem- 
ber, that Annie may have the benefit of the winter 
there.” 

“Is she any better?” Bel asked tremulously. 

“Did I tell you she was ill? I had forgotten. 


HER PROMISE. 


193 


I may find her a pale weak little thing, like yon. 
You think girls have a hard time, don’t you?” 

“ I know they do,” was the quick, emphatic reply. 

“Annie never has before.” 

“ She has not had time,” said Bel. “ She is 
young.” 

“You are stricken in years. I forgot. She is 
younger than you are. But I am wearying you. 
I may come again.” 

He arose. She attempted to rise, but fell back. 

“ Oh, do not go — yet. I wish to talk — ” 

“ Not to-day. You are not even strong enough 
to listen.” 

She tried to speak; she formed the words, but 
they made no sound — the inarticulate cry did not 
recall him. She had not been brave; it had been 
too hard; she could never, never confess. His 
eyes, his voice himself made it impossible. How 
could she bear his anger? She had borne so 
much ; she was so weak ; was she so very wicked 
not to tell him ? 

“Well, is it all over?” cried her mother’s gay 
voice. 

“ It will never be over,” she burst out. “lama 
coward. I could not say it.” 

“ So much the better. There was no need, but 
13 


194 


I SOB ELS BETWEEN TIMES. 


in your foolish imagination. Lie down again. 
And now you must eat a good dinner.” 

The good dinner was tasted, and a part of it 
forced down ; then, exhausted, she slept until dusk. 
The first thing her opened eyes espied, was her 
mother, sitting before the glowing grate. She did 
not speak : it was almost happiness to awake and 
find her sitting there. 

She was very beautiful in the firelight, in her 
navy blue dress; her pretty hands and hair and 
eyes were each noted and lovingly admired by the 
watcher upon the bed. 

In contrast with this cosy room, the long cabin 
appeared cheerless; the state room with its narrow 
berth, its one round window, its stationary wash- 
stand — and it contained nothing else — desolation 
itself. 

They were all kind, but they had each other. 
All she desired now, was this warm room and her 
mother. She was her “ nurse” and her “guar- 
dian;” but she was more than either, she was all 
the mother she had ever loved. 

“ Oh, you are awake ! And looking at me with 
your great big eyes. I must send a better looking 
face to Marietta.” 

“ Marietta ! Your sister.” 


HER PROMISE . 


195 


44 My only sister. She is not like me, she is one 
of your good women. She loves birds and kittens 
and children. She will love you in a minute; so 
will your grandfather. He worshipped your poor 
mother. Perhaps I ought to tell you; you will 
hear of it in some way — but I don’t know how to 
break anything. I do it like shooting it out of a gun. 
Your mother was only a little simple country girl, 
like you, but younger, when she met your father 
at my mother’s house. He admired her. She was 
a silly little thing, who never hurt anybody’s feel- 
ings — and he took her home at the end of her tw~o 
weeks’ visit. Her father hated him ; from the first 
he saw through him, I suppose, and forbade Hope 
to write to him, as he had asked her to do. After- 
ward they met at my mother’s, and I helped her 
marry him against her father’s will.” 

44 Oh, how could you ! ” cried Bel, starting up in 
distress. 

44 1 was young and romantic, and put ideas into 
her head. I may as well confess it to you; she 
would never have done it but for me, and I told her 
so afterward, silly little thing.” 

44 What did her father do?” Isobel’s white lips 
questioned. 

44 What could he do, but let them alone. He has 


196 


IS OB EL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


never been the same man since; he had a stroke 
after that. You will take her place to the old 
man, he is very old now. Marietta seemed to 
think she had some atonement to make for me 

5 

and she went to him and has been his main stay 
for years. She has no money ; my money came 
through a brother of my mothers who took a 
fancy to me, and gave me all the education I 
ever had. Then, the good old fellow died and 
left me all the money he was worth. I was 
named after his wife; I suppose that had some- 
thing to do with it.” After a pause, Mrs. Kel- 
linger resumed meditatively, “ Marietta is a dear 
old thing, but she has never forgiven me for mar- 
rying Hope Devoe to your father and then marry- 
ing him myself.” 

“And my mother named me after you?” asked 
Isobel, after thinking awhile about ‘ the dear old 
thing/ and loving her because she was on her 
side. If she had been there she would have kept 
Hope Devoe from doing such a thing ! 

“ Your name is Isobel Hope.” 

“ I wish you had called me Hope.” 

“ Your grandfather will call you Hope, I’ve no 
doubt.” 

“ If I should stay with you,” Isobel’s voice was 


HER PROMISE . 


197 


low and earnest, “ would you be like that to me ; 
would you influence me to do like that?” 

Mrs. Kellinger gave a shivering laugh. “ Don’t 
sit there and look at me so ! Of course I wouldn’t. 
I was a silly girl then myself, going to the theatre 
and reading novels, and caring for nothing but gay 
company.” 

“Do you do those things now?” asked Isobel, 
with her solemn eyes fixed upon her. 

“ I am older now,” she evaded. 

Isobel arose and came to her. “ Did my mother 
forgive you ? ” 

“ I don’t know; I never asked her. These are 
all my later reflections, spoken to her daughter. 
Somehow this fire ; and you lying there asleep, 
made me blue; I have fits of low spirits very often ; 
your poor father hated them.” 

And when he hated her low spirits, she felt that 
he hated her; if he had only loved her into being 
good ! Could she begin her life again — go back to 
this girl’s twenty years — she was sure she would 
choose to be “ good.” 

“ When shall I see papa? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know. He has gone on a long voy- 
age. He will steer clear of New York, his old own- 
ers live there, and he is’nt anxious to see them.” 


198 


IS OREL’S BETWEEN TIMES . 


“Why?” 

“ Because he cheated them,” said his wife, in her 
hardest voice, “ he cheated them and disgraced his 
wife and daughter.” 

Isobel dropped on her knees and hid her face in 
her mother’s lap. “What dreadful things you are 
telling me ! Is there not any good, happy thing to 
tell me?” 

“You are good,” said her mother, more moved 
than she had been for years, “ and you will be 
happy. They will love you dearly, and you will 
have a pleasant home. Isn’t that all you want?” 

“ Mamma, you are not good ; you were not good 
to my mother, but I do love you, and I want you 
beside.” 

There was much that was demonstrative and 
affectionate in Mrs. Kellinger’s nature. For years 
she had been chilled and thrown back upon herself ; 
as a girl she had been full of caressing ways; she 
kissed the head in her lap and spoke not a word. 

She would keep that girl, if she had to work her 
finger nails off to do it; perhaps, she could go 
back, and begin over again with her ! Oh, to 
have twenty years forgotten and forgiven, and to 
go back and be twenty again ! 

“ Grandpapa needs me; I must go to him to com- 


HER PROMISE. 


199 


fort him for poor mamma; she would bid me go, 
would she not ? ” 

44 Yes/’ said Mrs. Kellinger, jealously, “ I suppose 
she would.” 

44 And papa wants me to go. I am glad I have 
so much to go for. How long must we be on the 
ship, do you think ? ” 

44 That depends. Sometimes it is a long passage. 
You may count on fifty days more or less, I sup- 
pose.” 

Isobel sighed and lifted her head. 

44 1 am stronger to-night. I have a great deal to 
live for. I am glad you told me all. Where shall 
I write to papa ? ” 

44 1 must give you the address. He left good- 
bye for you and said he wanted to see you.” 

44 Poor papa,” sighed Isobel. 

And with her softened heart his wife sighed: 
44 Poor old John.” 

Neither sighed “Dear” 

Had he been with his wife and daughter to- 
night, would his heart have been softened, also? 

On the first day out, he had said to the mate : 
44 Some clear night, at eight bells, I am going 
home.” 

To-night, as the fire glowed in the grate in that 


200 


I SO BEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


pleasant upper room in Shields, and his wife and 
daughter were being drawn nearer to each other, 
John Kellinger, their husband and father, the man 
who had cheated his owners, the man who had 
lost his position among men, walked deliberately 
to the bow of the ship, and threw himself over into 
the ocean. Is this too sad a story ? Is it too sad 
to be true? 

Isobel never learned how her father was “lost 
overboard;” it was the one “dreadful thing” that 
her mother kept from her. 

With the light of the fire on their faces they sat 
talking a long while ; in the intervals of silence, 
Mrs. Kellinger was seeking to find a way to send 
Isobel home to comfort her grandfather, and yet to 
keep her with herself. 

“ Mamma ! ” with a joyful thrill in her voice: c< I 
have thought what to do. May I do it ? I shall 
never be brave enough to speak, but I can write a 
note and tell him. May I ? ” 

“ If you will be happier, you strange girl, and I 
really believe you will.” 

“ I wish I could send it to-night — ” 

“ You can. I will find a way. It will be 
safe to send it to the ship. I’ve forgotten his 
address.” 


HER PROMISE. 


201 


“ I wish yon would write it — only he might not 
wish you to know what the letter said.” 

“ It is better for you to write it. Do it quickly, 
and have it off your mind, once for all, and never 
get into such a tangle again.” 

It was written, with very few explanatory 
clauses; it was partly accident and partly her 
own fault ; and then she quoted the words she had 
read; the startling, solemn words that made her 
own heart ache. Was he brave to bear it ? W ould 
she ever know how he was hurt ? 

The letter was sent that evening. Janet and 
Ellinor called the next day. Ellinor, the chatter- 
box, (and for once Bel rejoiced that she was a 
chatterbox,) told Bel that Mr. Dekker had been 
“ awful mad or something ” over the letter she 
sent, and had spoken “awful sharp” about some- 
thing she said about it, and when she asked 
if he were going to say good-bye to Miss Kel- 
linger, he said, “No,” and then he said: “Thank 
her for the letter.” He had started for Lon- 
don, and did not tell them where he was going 
next. 

“ Bel,” said her mother that night, “ I have some- 
thing good to tell you. I hope I shall live to tell 
you a great many good things. This is better than 


202 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


anything yon will guess, and you must grow 
strong to enjoy it.” 

“ You will tell me before I go; before next Wed- 
nesday ? ” eagerly and anxiously. 

“ I will tell you Wednesday, after we go on 
board the Goodspeed.” 

That night at midnight Isobel was lying wide 
awake, with her eyes staring about the room in 
the dusky light of the smouldering tire in the 
grate. She had been thinking hard, ever since she 
had lain down three hours before. Thinking hard 
about what would become of her, and what she 
should do when her voyage was ended, and she 
was in the home her mother had — no, she could 
not put it to herself— “run away from,” but the 
thought was there, and the ugly words were 
crowded down. 

Her mother had gone away and left her to be 
the daughter of her father’s old age; she would 
not be the granddaughter, she would be the 
daughter. She would lose her own life in her 
mother’s girlhood; it should be to her grandfather 
as if his daughter had never forsaken him. Another 
Hope Devoe would go back to him. She would 
begin doing her work for him in the hour her 
mother left off; he should forget and be comforted. 


HER PROMISE . 


203 


What a lovely thing that would be, for his sake, 
and her poor young mother’s! For her own? 
But she would be brave, and not think about her- 
self at all. She felt very brave as she lay there in 
the half-lighted room, with the leagues of the sea 
between herself and the life she was picturing. 
She might not love her grandfather, but she would 
love him better than her mother had loved him ; 
she would love him to the end; no one should coax 
her away. She would not dream any more about 
that dear little home in which she would belong 
to somebody, for she would never belong to any 
one excepting her mother’s old father. And after 
that — why, she would be old and not care — if she 
had to stay with him until she were as old as 
thirty, she would not dream any dreams then, she 
would stay on in the farm-house and something 
would become of her. It was rather doleful; the 
only bright thing about it was that she would be 
doing what her mother should have done ; it would 
be her mother’s “ restitution ; ” her mother’s life 
would be restored in her life. And if she had no 
life of her own, it would not really matter; she 
would be doing a brave, beautiful thing, and that 
would keep her up. 

She had never heard of such a thing or read of 


204 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


it; perhaps no one had ever done it before. The 
thought of it was pretty enough for even Longfel- 
low to write it in a poem. The bravery and the 
beauty were all the comfort she craved. Now that 
her promise to herself was made and registered in 
the depths of her steadfast heart, she could turn 
away from the light and shut her eyes and try to 
sleep. Every hour she must grow strong for that 
dreaded voyage. She belonged to her grandfather 
now. She fell asleep belonging to him. New 
grace and dignity were added to the girlishness of 
her life. 

In the early dawn she awoke under the pressure 
that something had happened to her. In an in- 
stant the “vow” made in the silent midnight 
flashed upon her; the room was dark, the rain was 
beating heavily against the blinds; it must be 
rough out upon the ocean; and Janet was still and 
reserved, and Ellinor, such a chatterbox, and Mr. 
Dekker would not be there, and he was angry with 
her, any way, and her grandfather might not be so 
glad to see her. 

“Bel, what are you crying about? You will 
never be fit to go. I shall have to tell you to 
cheer you up. What do you want most ? ” 

“ To stay here with you,” sobbed Bel, her bravery 


HER PROMISE . 


205 


having all oozed away. “ I am afraid of every 
thing.” 

“You silly thing,” laughed Mrs. Kellinger; then 
she drew the girl’s head into her arms and whis- 
pered, pushing her hair aside: “ 1 am going to 
America ivitli you” 


XIII. 


THE BOOK. 

Not one word came to Isobel in reply to her note 
to Prosper Dekker, unless the tiny book left with 
Janet Dermot, with her name and his written 
upon its cover, and “ In memory of our ckiys on 
board the Goodspeed,” upon the fly leaf, might be 
counted a word in return. 

How many times she read that book through 
upon the homeward voyage, she had no idea ; her 
* mother teazed her about it, at first, and then, after 
glancing through it herself one lonesome, stormy 
Sunday, a shade of thoughtfulness stole over her 
face every time she saw the girl absorbed in it. 

It became as precious to Isobel as her mother’s 
picture. That you may appreciate how much it 
was to her, I will copy the pages she read the 
oftenest: 

“ What is the meaning of the Supper ? 

“ It was Thursday evening. The Lord Jesus and 

his disciples were sitting at a table in an upper 
( 206 ) 


THE BOOK. 


207 


room in the city of Jerusalem. They were keeping 
the feast of the Passover. This feast was observed 
once a year by all the people, and was meant to 
keep them in mind how the Lord had delivered 
their fathers out of Egyptian bondage; especially, 
how the destroying angel, who smote the first-born 
in every Egyptian household, passed over the 
houses of the Israelites. 

“ If you will read carefully the twelfth chapter of 
the book of Exodus, you will learn more about this 
Passover than I can tell you now. 

“Upon the eventful Thursday evening, when 
Jesus and his disciples were keeping the feast, 

‘ Jesus took bread: and when he had given thanks 
he brake it, and said, Take, eat: this is my body, 
which is broken for you: this do in remembrance of 
me. After the same manner, also, he took the cup 
when he had supped, saying, This cup is the New 
Testament in my blood; this do ye, as oft as ye 
drink it, in remembrance of me. For as often as 
ye eat this bread and drink this cup, ye do show 
the Lord’s death till he come.’ (1 Cor. xi. 24-26.) 

“ After this they sang a hymn (Matt. xxvi. 30,) 
and went out into the Mount of Olives. 

“ That same night Judas led a great multitude 
with swords and staves (Mark xiv. 43) in the Gar- 


208 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


den of Gethsemane and betrayed Jesus to his ene- 
mies, who led him to the judgment hall. 

“Early in the morning the Council bound Jesus 
and delivered him to Pilate. 

“Pilate delivered him to the Jews, who were eager 
to crucify him. Very soon the cross was laid upon 
his shoulder; ‘and when they came to the place 
which is called Calvary, there they crucified him/ 
(Luke xxiii. 33.) From that night, as Jesus in- 
tended, the Lord’s Supper has taken the place of 
the Passover. And it will be observed until the 
Lord comes again. 

“ The Passover, you have heard, reminded the 
Israelites of the night when the Lord smote the 
first-born among the Egyptians. The Israelites 
had blood sprinkled on their door-posts ; and when- 
ever the destroying angel saw that blood stain he 
passed by without destroying.” (Ex. xii. 23.) 

Isobel searched for Exodus, (Ellinor told her 
that was the meaning of ‘Ex.’) in her Testament, 
and when she had searched in vain, she asked Elli- 
nor where to find it. The little girl tried hard not 
to laugh, and choked behind her handkerchief in- 
stead, and then as seriously as she could, brought 
her own Bible and found Exodus in the Old Testa- 


ment. 


THE BOOK, 


209 


“ The difference is not because yours is French,” 
she explained patronizingly, “ but you have only a 
part of the Bible, the new part; all about the Is- 
raelites and the kings and Chronicles is in the old 
part. You may have mine every day.” 

“No one told me that,” replied Isobel, with 
humility, 4 4 1 think mamma will buy me one like 
yours.” 

“I have one somewhere,” said Mrs. Kellinger, 
drowsily stirring from her nap on the cabin sofa, 
“ but it is fine print. They gave it to me in Sun- 
day-school, when I was a little bit of a good-for- 
nothing child.” 

This conversation occurred the first time Isobel 
read the tiny book; afterward, she read it with 
Ellinor’s Bible in her lap ; she found the references 
at every reading. 

“The Lord’s Supper reminds us of the death of 
Christ. His blood sprinkled on our hearts makes 
us as safe as the Israelites were in their dwellings. 
The paschal lamb was a type or figure of Christ, 
who is the Lamb of God which taketh away the 
sins of the world. 

“ The Lord’s Supper is called a feast because it 
refreshes and strengthens the souls of those who 

rightly partake of it. It is called a seal of the 
14 


210 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


covenant, because, like a sealed charter or grant 
put into our hands, it confirms or makes sure to 
us a right and title to all the benefits of Christ’s 
purchase. 

“ Perhaps you have seen a charter with wax, and 
the impression of a seal upon the wax. This mark 
of the seal proves its genuineness. 

“ The king of England has his private seal, and 
also his great seal, or seal of the kingdom. 

“ Some one has beautifully said of the Supper: 
‘It is a seal of Christ’s own devising and engra- 
ving, whose inscription is Christ loving us; and 
whose image is Christ dying for us.’ 

“The Lord’s Supper is also called a Sacrament ; 
and this word means oath . 

“ The word was used among the Roman soldiers 
for a military oath, whereby they bound them- 
selves to be true and faithful soldiers to their gen- 
eral. So in this Supper we bind ourselves to the 
Captain of our Salvation, Jesus, promising to be 
true and faithful soldiers in the army of the Lord. 

“ We see then that the bread and wine represent 
the body and blood of Christ; that the bread is 
broken and the wine poured out to remind us how 
his body was broken and his blood shed for our sins; 
and that, as Ave eat the bread and drink the wine, 


THE BOOK. 


211 


so our crucified Saviour is the meat and drink of 
our soul’s life. 

44 So eating and drinking in remembrance of him, 
we 4 show his death,’ and our souls are fed with 
heavenly food. 

44 The Supper is also a sign that we are members 
of Christ’s family, loving him chiefly, and loving 
each other ; and that we are his followers, his sol- 
diers, to whom he gives the sealed pledge of the 
heavenly kingdom.” 

One afternoon Isobel and her mother were sit- 
ting upon the transom together; the girl with her 
head upon her mother’s shoulder. 

“Mamma, you must pet me,” she said; 44 1 am 
not perfectly strong yet.” 

44 You bring all the petting out of me there is in 
me; I never knew I had any before.” 

44 0, mamma ! Lucy,” reproved Isobel. 

44 1 was with her so little,” sobbed the mother, 
penitently. 

44 But she loved you; we used to build castles of 
how we would go sailing with you.” 

44 And now you are going sailing with me.” 

44 1 did not expect it — like this.” 

44 Did you expect better than this ?” she asked, 
jealously. 


212 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ I expected papa would be with us ; do you 
think it is wrong to be glad — not to be sorry that 
he is not with us ?” 

Janet and Ellinor were with their father, in the 
house on deck ; Ellinor had dropped her slate and 
Janet her sewing, at his call. 

“ Then I am very wrong,” was the energetic 
reply, “ and I do not try to be right. He is not 
like Captain Dermot ; these girls never dread to 
hear his steps coming down from the deck, and 1 
used to dread it like a frightened child.” 

“ Poor mamma !” said Bel, caressing her cheek. 

“ And when I was frightened I used to be ugly, 
and say ugly things; when I didn’t dare I dared 
the more ; Bel, no one has ever brought the good 
out of me as you have. I think I might have been 
a good wife ; I do want to be a good .mother.” 

The girl’s only reply was a silent caress. 

“ I think of papa because Captain Dermot re- 
minds me of him; and I wonder if papa would 
have liked to have us both on board his ship.” 

“ He will never have a ship again,” said his 
wife, bitterly. 

“ Why ?” asked Bel, astonished. 

“ He has lost his ambition ; he has lost his good 
name — all he ever had to lose.” 


THE BOOK. 


213 


“ Will he never come to America ?” 

“ I hope not.” 

“ Then must we go to to him ?” 

“ I must; you need not. Your grandfather will 
take care of you. Perhaps I shall behave better — 
I have written to him ; one night, when you were 
asleep I looked at you and my hard heart began to 
feel softer, and I wrote him a letter and told him 
that you were somebody to live for, if his wife 
were not.” 

u 0 mamma !” was the loving expostulation. 

“ I want to try again ; I want to begin again ; as 
if I were you, and had another chance.” 

u Begin with me,” said Bel, joyously. “ I do 
not believe the Lord Jesus (the name was new 
on Bel’s lips and came with reverent hesitation) 
thinks you are so much older than I am, if you 
feel so.” 

“ I only feel so; I do not do so ; I am a loose 
bundle of impulses and moods and temper ; I was 
cross to you this morning, 1 shall be cross again 
before night,” in a tone so sincerely remorseful 
that Bel gave her a quick kiss. 

“ It does not hurt long,” she said, smiling; “ you 
are so sweet afterward that I forget.” 

The forty-seven days upon the ocean were 


214 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


golden days to Isobel ; she had so much to think 
about and talk about, and she had, what she had 
so rarely had before — her mother all to herself. 

It was a shock, and a great sorrow still, that her 
beautiful mother was not her own mother ; but as 
the days went on she said to herself that she 
loved her the more, not the less ; for it was so good 
in her to love and provide for her, when she was 
not her own child, like Lucy. For the first time, 
she began to be jealous lest Lucy should keep the 
first place in her mother’s heart. 

“ Perhaps Lucy has my own mother up in 
heaven,” she thought, “ who knows ?” 

Janet and Ellinor amused her every hour; 
Janet’s replies were as odd as Ellinor’s questions. 

And then there was the looking forward ! the 
strangeness of America was taken away, now that 
her mother might be with her ; she was glad her 
grandfather was as pretty and quaint as a picture 
of the last century; and she would see Mr. Perez 
Dekker again ! Mr. Perez Dekker ! She smiled 
at her mental photograph ; hair long and black, 
behind his ears ; the blackest eyes that seemed to 
look through you and wonder, as if he were weigh- 
ing your words in some invisible balance ; with a 
courteous presence, old-fashioned, or knightly, or 


THE BOOK. 


215 


boob-wormish ; (that was one of Janet’s words ; 
she learned new English words every day). She 
had decided that he did not approve of her ; she 
would rather that he did ; he was the only gentle- 
man that had ever visited her, and he had come 
but three times. Madame had remained in the 
room and silenced her several times by a look or a 
tap of her foot when she was pouring out her com- 
plaints and her dread of going to America. She 
was ashamed of herself, in this thoughtful retro- 
spect; what had moved her to burst out and give 
so much of herself! 

He might not care to renew an acquaintance so 
unpleasantly begun ; he might never speak to her 
again. 

And then there was the new aunt; not as old as 
Madame, not disagreeable and stiff like Mademoi- 
selle ; the aunt who had all her life been kind to 
children and old people, and who had never had 
any life of her own. Something had happened to 
make her sorrowful once, her mother had told her, 
but no one knew all about it, and never would ; 
all she cared for now was worlc ; Bel supposed, in 
her musing, she never opened a book or looked at 
a picture, or thought about the sunset or the sing- 
ing of the birds. Her life must be all ended. 


216 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


These three people, with mamma, would be all 
her America. She might have to be shut up in a 
dark room with grandpapa day and night; she 
would never forget her promise, she had written it 
in the blank page at the back of her New Testa- 
ment. 

So at last, with all these things in her mind, and 
in her heart, the forty-seventh day came, and 
Isobel’s feet touched American soil. 


XIV. 


GRANDPAPA. 

As he sat alone one midnight, after his sister had 
gone up-stairs, Perez Dekker twisted his cousin’s 
letter in his fingers, and mused over its contents. 
There was but a single allusion to his broken en- 
gagement, (how jubilantly he had written about 
Annie the day before he sailed,) a hint about his 
plan of winter travel, a promise of meeting in the 
spring. 

“ After all his hard study and hard work, this is 
what he has come to,” he mused, “a wanderer up- 
on the face of the earth, seeking to regain his 
w r asted strength. Somehow, I can’t see that he 
amounts to much;” adding fondly, “but he is a 
splendid fellow.” 

In his own estimation Perez Dekker amounted 
to a large sum. He modestly kept that valuation 
to himself. 

As he sat thinking, he untwisted the sheet and 
read again the closing paragraph : 


( 217 ) 


218 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES. 


“I never expected to live an easy life; my pre- 
sent laziness is enforced. I spoke for half an hour 
here last week and with the best physical result 
to myself. I shall try my old life, or something 
else in the way of work, before long. God does not 
lay his cross upon us, we are bidden to take it 
There is nothing passive about it ; it is all active ; 
endurance is an active state. If we follow Christ, 
we must take up his cross. It is in the way along 
which he goes. Woe is me if I do any other thing 
or go any other way. 4 In our measure why may 
not the cross become our delight, as it was his?’” 

With the letter had been sent a copy of an illus- 
trated magazine, published in London. Prosper 
wrote that he had met the editor, a lady, at the 
house of a friend, and after hearing him speak, she 
had importuned him to “write something ” for her 
magazine. He had tried to put her off by saying 
that his pencil did nothing beside jottings in a 
book he carried in his breast pocket, and she had 
begged for a leaf from it. 

“ Not that it will be anything to you, old friend, 
beside a photograph of my inner self: but I would 
like Miss Kellinger to see it : several of the 
thoughts were suggested by questions she asked, 
or remarks she made upon that short voyage we 


GRANDPAPA . 


219 


had together. Send me your impression of her; 
she is waking up and growing. I do not like to 
think of her in shady places. I believe she is 
meant to grow in the sunshine.” 

Perez smiled over his thoughts, and tossed the 
untwisted sheet into the fire ; then he drew a 
small table before him and answered his cousin’s 
letter. 

“ You two are not one bit alike,” his sister had 
observed that evening. 

u One bit alike would spoil us for each other,” 
Perez replied. “ I cannot even drink my coffee as 
he drinks his.” 

In his letter was one sentence about Bel: 

“ Your travelling companion is making a small 
sensation in our community. To the simple folk 
there is around her the halo of her foreign sur- 
roundings. A foreign tongue is mingled in the 
prettiness of her English speech ; the sunniness of 
France is about her, the odor of vineyards, the 
saltness and sparkle of the sea.” 

The next morning, as he stood drawing on his 
gloves, waiting for the carriage, he said to his 
sister: 

u Send this little English affair over the way this 
morning. The old man and Miss Isobel will both 


220 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


be interested in it. He snaps at every new bit of 
reading matter.” 

“ I havn’t had time to look over it myself yet,” 
said Miss Jue tartly, “it came only last night.” 

“ You will not care for it; the editor is a woman, 
and you have no patience with woman’s work in 
that line.” 

“ I saw Prosper’s name in it, and I did use to 
like his sermons. His only fault was in stopping 
when he was half way through, and in not giving 
people credit for the good they do do !” 

“He isn’t even half way through in this; but 
this is marked number one; perhaps he gets 
through in the next number.” 

“ Do you wish Miss Bel to keep it ? ” 

“ Yes,” he said, teazinglv. “ I had not thought 
of it, but you will suggest such things.” 

Miss Jue raised her eyebrows and looked at him 
sharply; she had told him that she “hated that 
girl.” 

In the afternoon she took the paper over herself. 
Bel smiled at the figure crossing the road; the face 
was hidden in the calico sun-bonnet that in sum- 
mer she moved in the garden in, a red and green 
striped shawl was wrapped about her thin shoul- 
ders; in one hand she carried the magazine, in the 


GRANDPAPA. 


221 


other a jar of pickled cherries for her old neigh- 
bor. 

She found the u foreign girl,” as she persisted in 
calling Bel, sitting in the sunshine beside her 
grandfather; she had been reading aloud to him, 
but now she had taken some pretty work into her 
fingers and was chatting with her laughing face 
turned towards him. The dark room had been a 
myth ; his chair was always in the sunshine. In 
the three months they had been together they had 
become the best of friends. 

The old man was completely fascinated; he had 
confided to Marietta, with a falling inflection, that 
“ Bel Hope ” was brighter than her mother ever 
was, and twice as sweet ; if there was such a thing 
as compensation he had it in full, and the only sor- 
row he had in his life was that he would have to 
die and leave her. 

“ What does her mother think of such devo- 
tion?” Miss Jue asked Miss Devoe that afternoon. 

Bel called Miss Devoe “ Aunt Marie.” 

“ Oh, she cries sometimes and storms and raves, 
and threatens to take her away or to go away her- 
self, but the old man only laughs, and tells her to 
go. Poor little Bel Hope is heart-broken between 
her two fires, for he grows more jealous of her every 


222 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


day ; he says even her father has not the right to 
her he has. I had no idea Isobel cared so for the 
child. I do believe it is something new, and half 
put on.” 

u Too much indulgence spoils the finest nature, 
I’ve heard; I never had any, so I can’t speak from 
experience; it’s a perfect marvel to me how one 
gets all . Suppose some young man appears on the 
scene ; that will make a commotion.” 

“Don’t prophecy such dreadful things,” laughed 
Miss Devoe, comfortably. “ iTncle Harold will 
shake his stick at them; young ladies, too, for 
that matter.” 

“ Well, I notice that she grows wilful by the 
day,” snapped Miss Jue, taking up her emptied 
can; “and I know one thing/' she snapped to her- 
self, as she paddled over the slushy road, “she 
shall not be encouraged to come to my house and 
make eyes.” 

She might be “encouraged” to come, for Perez 
had spoken of her pure accent, and said nothing 
would suit him better than to read French with her ; 
and she had asked him why he had idled away his 
time, and not learned French before ? Prosper had 
written about her, and even asked her to make it 
“pleasant” for Miss Kellinger, saying that her 


GRANDPAPA. 


223 


mother appeared “ flippant ” and u hardly a safe 
guardian.” 

What had she to do with girls? Had she 
not been bothered with Germans and Jews of 
all sorts, twenty years of her life ? What right 
had this girl to come and grow bright and 
sweet before her eyes, and have heaped upon 
her the love and caretaking of everybody in the 
house ? 

Those two women were like two hens with one 
chicken between them, and both were clucking to 
get her under their wings. 

“Aunt Marie” (why couldn’t she say “Marietta ” 
like other people ? ) would not let her touch a 
potato for fear of soiling her fingers, and her grand- 
father (old fool) thought her too good to return 
the calls of the girls in the neighborhood. 

And now Perez wanted to exalt her a little 
higher, by making her a French teacher, and pay- 
ing her so much an hour ! It wmuld be queer if 
she couldn't speak French ! 

In the mean while, Isobel, who would have 
asked Miss Jue to explain what making “ eyes ” 
meant, was turning the leaves of the new maga 
zine, delighted to find in it a reminder of her 
school days, for one of the English girls had 


224 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


lent an odd number to her at school, and in it 
she had learned about St. John the Beloved. 

After a while she uttered a little cry of joy and 
welcome; she had espied a name at the bottom 
of a page. Glancing down the page there seemed 
something familiar in the words. She had an un- 
defined feeling of recognizing a face or a voice. 
The name explained it all. It was like that even- 
ing in church. From over the sea he had reached 
out his hand to her. 

Mr. Perez Dekker had sent it to grandpapa, but 
no matter, all the same, it was her own. 

“Bel Hope, what is it makes you so glad?” 
looking up into her radiant eyes. 

“ Something I find here for me. I heard some- 
thing like it once in a church.” 

“ Isn’t it for me, too?” he asked, good-humoredly. 

“ Everything I have is for you,” she answered, 
gravely and gratefully. 

“Sam has brought me an English paper from 
the mail,” said Mrs. Kellinger, “ and I shall take 
mine up-stairs. Bel, I want you as soon as you are 
through reading to your grandfather.” 

“Oui, madame,” assented Bel, mischievously. 

Bel was arrayed in her blue dress that her grand- 
father had said was like her mother’s, “ only pret- 


GRANDPAPA. 


225 


tier,” and her hair was in one long braid and curled 
at the end, as he said her mother used to wear 
hers ; Bel’s hair fell long below her waist, and the 
curling ends were often in grandfather’s fingers; 
he told her that her hair was growing darker, and 
would be spoiled by matching her eyebrows some 
day. 

“Will you not like it then?” she asked anx- 
iously. 

“Bless you, Bel Hope, I’ll like it if it turns 
green,” he said, giving the long braid a twitch. 

She read the earnest words in a happy voice. She 
thought she would not care to read it to any one 
beside her grandfather. 

He muttered “h’m ” and “ah” all the way through 
with an appreciativeness that gratified her, for it 
was a tribute of praise to the friend she admired. 

Bel could not have told you why she liked it ; 
she felt that she did not understand it as Mr. Dek- 
ker understood and felt it. It reminded her of 
him, and that was sufficient to make her glad; she 
had missed him so long. 

There was no beginning; it seemed to begin in 
the middle. The beginning to her was that night 
in church, she remembered about the basket of 

fragments. 

15 


226 


IS OB EES BETWEEN TIMES . 


“I wish I knew about that soldier who was 
chained to Paul. I would like to know what Paul 
said to him, and what the man thought about it, 
and did about it. Perhaps it was as good for him 
to be chained to Paul as it was for that thief to be 
crucified at the side of Christ. Is there any person 
or anything chained to us by the will of man — let 
us keep it as the will of God — until God does the 
unchaining. And let us do our best, as we are 
sure Paul did.” 

Aunt Marie was listening with her work in her 
hand; she kept her eyes upon her work with a 
new expression in them. Aunt Marie, like every 
one of us, had her own story. 

“ I know a busy woman who keeps a variety of 
small work at hand ; it is amusing to watch how 
she has something to pick up on every occasion. 
I spoke of it one day. 

“Don’t you know what Luther said?” was her 
quick reply: ‘The idle hand will soon be an 
empty hand.’ If the Lord should say to me a 
dozen times a day, ‘ What are you doing ?’ I should 
not want to answer him ‘Nothing.’” 

Aunt Marie nodded an approval, that the reader 
did not notice. 

“ Another somebody I know, declares that he 


GRANDPAPA. 


227 


does not believe in the present help in trouble; one 
may be helped to bear it, and that is all the pre- 
sent help there is in it. The good of it will be re- 
vealed in God’s good time (when Satan has had 
his way a while longer). 

“I do not agree with him; there is a blessing 
to-day for the hurt of to-day, and the man who has 
it is the man who believes in it and tries to get it. 
We may keep hold of the hurt, if we rebelliouslv 
or submissively will, and have our own bad time 
instead of God’s present good time. We hurt 
ourselves and lay the blame upon God and try 
to be ‘ submissive.’ I believe 4 God’s good time ’ 
might come a great deal quicker than anybody 
knows.” 

44 I don’t know how I could have had mine any 
quicker,” responded Grandfather. 

“ Nobody told me,” said Bel. 44 I would have 
come, grandpapa.” 

44 You are here now, and that’s all I want to 
know,” said the fond old voice. 

Grandfather Devoe, for he had begun to be only 
that to them all, had a sweet pink-and-white face, 
with long white hair falling about his temples, and 
on his neck ; and a full, glossy white beard and mous- 
tache ; his sunken eyes were bright and blue, and 


228 


IS OB EL’S BETWEEN TIMES . 


now that Bel had come and was ever with him, 
his voice was as cheery as a bird’s. 

“ She is wrinkled and her cheeks are hollow, and 
her lips are puckered; I would not kiss her for 
anything.” 

Bel read the words, and then looked bewildered; 
was that what she had said herself? 

“ I saw a perfect sight to-day,” was the reply ; 
“ a picture of perfect babyhood ; it had rings of 
soft gold hair all over its head, and its eyes were as 
blue as the sky and as shining as stars; its cheeks 
were like a pink rose and its lips as sweet as the 
fragrance of roses. I could not touch it or kiss it, 
nevertheless; it lived in a forlorn, forsaken house, 
and was framed in by a rickety, unpainted window 
frame; I could see none of its beauty; I could 
think of nothing but the house it lived in. It was 
very shocking.” 

Bel laughed aloud. “ 0, Grandpapa, he said 
that to me, and now he has written it down for 
other girls.” 

“Go on,” said Aunt Marie, impatient of the 
frequent interruptions. 

“ Suppose you knew that wrinkled, bent, dis- 
eased, deformed old body was the Temple of the 
Holy Ghost, that he dwelt in it, illuminating the 


GRANDPAPA. 


229 


mind and making pure the heart, as really as that 
child dwells in that falling-down old house, would 
you still think only of the decay, the ruin ? ” 

Bel paused with serious eyes ; he had said that 
to her, and made her so ashamed of her heartless 
words. 

“If there were no spots or wrinkles in our 
human bodies, how could we understand why Christ 
loved the Church and gave himself for it? Was it 
not that he might present it to himself, a glorious 
Church, not having spot or wrinkle or any such thing ? 

“ Is it a pity that spots and wrinkles must be 
on the outside of the temples he dwells in ? 

“Suppose there were no spots and wrinkles, what 
would this work of Christ mean to us ? All these 
material things are given that he may make plain 
to us the spiritual things ; through what we see to 
learn about what our eyes cannot perceive. 

“Thus God glorifies even the wrinkles of our 
fleshly habitation. If there were no 4 scarlet,’ and 
no ‘snow,’ would we not lose the force of one of 
his strong promises?” 

Bel put down the magazine, and looked un- 
comprehending. Grandfather softly repeated : 
“ Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as 
white as snow.” 


230 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


With, wistful eyes over the new promise, Bel 
began to read again ; her happy days were moving 
on with such simple, perfect pleasures, that were it 
not for the soul hunger that hungered for she 
hardly knew what, she would have been as content 
as her old grandfather. She did not feel forgiven . 

“ The incidents in our lives,” she read, “ are like 
the pictures in a book ; they illustrate what we 
think and feel, what we are in the secret chambers 
of our heart. As we can judge of the character of 
a book, of the story it has to tell, by glancing 
through at its illustrations, so we can judge the 
hidden thought by the doings we make in our 
life’s story; each doing is in illustration of the 
book whose title is the name you bear. As the 
text of the book makes the pictures, so your own 
true inner self creates the doings of your life. 
Each day has its own picture.” 

Again the reader paused to muse. That picture 
of herself burning his letter, betrayed the thought 
of her heart. All the naughty, wilful, deceitful 
doings of her school days illustrated the story of 
her foolish heart. 

Sitting there reading to grandpapa, was a 
picture of her kept promise. 

Her two auditors made no remark. 


GRANDPAPA, 


231 


u I wish mamma were here,” said Bel, “ she 
would care for this.” 

“ She has her English paper to read,” said 
Aunt Marie. 

“ Do you not think it is worth while to make 
people happy even if you cannot make them good ? 
The goodness of God leads to repentance ; that is 
happiness, or having God’s good things, leads one 
to turn around, turn away from the good things 
and the evil things of their lives, and turn towards 
him. How perfect to be so happy that one feels he 
must be good /” 

Bel gave a little laugh. “ He means us, grand- 
papa.” 

“ God speaks to us in our life, oftentimes, before 
he speaks to us in his word; what happened to us 
yesterday illumines his page as we open it to-day. 

“ Did Christ in his human life have what we are 
apt to call ‘trouble?’ He had not money to pay 
his tax-bill ; would that be a trouble to us ? He 
had not where to lay his head; would that be a 
trouble to us ? 

“Neither did his brethren believe on him; would 
that be a trouble to us?” 

Bel looked up : “ Did he have such a hard 

time, grandpapa?” 


232 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Cannot, you read the New Testament ?” 

“ But I think only of his loving words and gra- 
cious deeds ; I forget that the earth was a hard 
place for him to live in.” 

“ It is a hard place for us all,” said aunt Marie, 
with unusual sharpness in her tone. 

“ It is a lovely place for me,” said Bel. “ All I 
have to do now is to take happy things.” 

" Now isn’t always,” prophesied Miss Devoe, 
with as much grimness as was possible to her 
comfortable state of mind. 

u It is between them,” smiled Bel, dropping her 
eyes on the page again. 

“ Do you not think Alary w^as glad that her Son 
chose a home for her in John’s house? What 
reverent and considerate love she must have re- 
ceived for her Son’s sake ! 

“ Do we give consideration and love to the aged 
who belong to him, for his sake ?” 

Bel gave a squeeze to the fingers that were toy- 
ing with the ends of her hair. 

“Prayer is speaking to God; the answer is God 
speaking to us. We think a great deal, feel, and 
talk, and pray a great deal about our speaking to 
God; how about God speaking to us? Do we 
think, feel, talk, pray, and watch a great deal 


GRANDPA PA . 


233 


about his speaking ? Are we not more filled 
with our part of it, are we ever so filled with 
ourselves that we cannot listen to him ? Do we 
watch daily at his gates and wait at the posts 
of his doors to speak to him, or rather to listen 
while he speaks to us ? Do we kneel to listen as 
often as to speak ? 

“Are we as wide awake watching for his answer 
as we are wide awake in offering our supplica- 
tion ? 

“ Do you ever think, after your prayer is an- 
swered: ‘Well, I might have had it, anyway?’ 
Try it ‘ anyway’ and see. You cannot ‘cast your 
care ’ unless you have care to cast. ‘ I don’t care ’ 
never cast a care upon God. We give it to God 
because we do care, because we care so much that 
it is killing us. 

“The difference between some people and other 
people consists in what each puts first ; some put 
the kingdom of God first, and others do not put it 
anywhere.” 

Bel spoke quickly: “I do not think Mr. Perez 
Dekker puts it anywhere.” 

“ I wonder where you put it? ” asked Miss Devoe, 
rather severely. 

“ I do not know,” faltered Bel. 


234 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Who has taken care of your soul ?” with in- 
creasing sternness. 

“I have not had any,” replied Bel, with the 
utmost seriousness, “ one is growing into me now.” 

At that instant a shriek from up-stairs rang 
through the still house, and brought each to their 
feet. Bel flew up-stairs, and was first in her 
mother's room. 

“ She must be on fire,” exclaimed Miss Devoe, 
rushing after Bel’s swift feet. 


XV. 


LOST OVEKBOARD. 

“0, mamma, mamma!” cried Bel, bursting in at 
the open door. 

Mrs. Kellinger had thrown herself across the 
bed, and was weeping with hysteric sobs; pieces 
of torn newspaper were scattered over the carpet. 

“ 0 mamma ! ” cried frightened Bel again, stand- 
ing at the bedside in helpless misery. 

“ It is your father. He has been lost overboard. 
He is dead in the sea, and I was always hard to 
him. I did not kiss him, or forgive him, when he 
went away,” sobbed her mother brokenly, stagger- 
ing to her feet to throw both arms around Bel. 

The girl was too frightened to utter a word. 
Her father had been so little to her. She had not 
thought of him for days; his name was never 
spoken, excepting by her mother, and then with 
her aggrieved, fault-finding air. 

“0 Bel, he will never come back, and I was not 
kind to him,” wailed the poor wife. 


( 235 ) 


236 


I SOB ELS BETWEEN TIMES . 


Miss Devoe stood leaning over the low foot- 
board ; grandfather had hurried up-stairs, and bal- 
anced himself against the door post, ashen-hued 
and trembling. 

He had hated that man who was lost overboard ; 
he had cursed him in his heart. He turned away 
and went slowly down-stairs. Had the Lord 
thought upon his curse ? 

“Isobel, you must be quiet, you are frightening 
poor Bel,” commanded Miss Devoe’s controlled 
voice. 

“ Poor Bel, you haven't any father,” sobbed her 
father’s wife. 

Bel was not sure that she had ever had any 
father. 

“HI lie down. Cover me up warm, Bel. Mari- 
etta, bring me a cup of hot tea; I am freezing to 
death,” Mrs. Kellinger moaned, shivering and 
frightened. 

The shivering ceased in a measure after she was 
covered up warm, and had drunk the large cup of 
steaming tea. Miss Devoe went away, after hav- 
ing put wood into the stove and drawn the shades 
down; Bel sat at the bedside, with her head on 
her mother’s pillow; white, terror-stricken and 
speechless. 


LOST OVERBOARD. 


237 


“Lost overboard !” And how she had loved the 
sea ! 

“Bel,” opening her quivering eyelids, “I must 
go to New York to see about my mourning. I 
have been a widow all this time and didn’t know 
it. Do you want to wear mourning ?” 

“What for?” asked Bel. 

“ It shows respect for the memory of the dead. 
A widow needs it as a sort of — protection.” 

“From what?” questioned inconsequent Bel. 

“ I will go to-morrow. I need the excitement. 
Don’t go down to supper and leave me. I don’t 
see what I ever did to be punished like this.” 

“ I must go to grandpapa. He will need me all 
the evening.” 

“ Then Marietta must come up. I cannot stay 
alone. I wish I could get warm. That dreadful 
ocean will be before my eyes as long as I live. I 
feel as if I had pushed him into it.” 

Before Isobel Kellinger fell asleep, she had 
wondered if she would ever marry again. Perez 
Dekker had thought she w r as only thirty-five. She 
had not a gray hair in her head, and her figure 
was as young as Bel’s. And she sighed, “poor 
John,” and fell asleep, and dreamed of the sea. 
She knew that he had lost himself overboard ; she 


238 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


knew that he had no happy home to sail homeward 
to ; she knew that her hand had not held him back 
from any evil doing. Poor, innocent, happy little 
Bel, should never know it. She had bidden her 
pick up those pieces of newspaper and put them 
into the fire; and unthinkingly and unquestion- 
ingly the girl had obeyed. 

“ Bel Hope, you belong to me now,” said grand- 
father: “ no one on earth has any other right to 
you. I wish I could change your name to my 
name.” 

“No,” said Bel, softening her words with a 
caress on his cheek, “that is all of poor papa I 
have.” 

Bel brought her grandfather’s supper into the 
sitting-room; he said he was “too shaken up,” to 
walk a step, and then he kept her near him talking 
or reading. 

She was a little weary of him to-night; she was 
often a little weary of him; she longed for the 
time to herself that she had at Madame’s and on 
shipboard. Now from morning until night, she 
had not an hour that might not be interrupted bv 
some demand. To-night she wished to go up-stairs 
and sit by her mother, to talk to her, or to think her 
own thoughts. It was rather tiresome to belong 


LOST OVERBOARD. 


239 


altogether to the loving, selfish old man. And 
now he would claim her more persistently than 
ever. 

“You will not have to call her mother now,” he 
declared, in one of the pauses of the reading. 

“ Why not, grandpapa ?” she asked, startled. 

“ She was your mother only in virtue of being 
your father’s wife. She is not now your father’s 
wife; she is free from him. Free enough to marry 
again, (and she’ll do it before a year,) therefore she 
cannot be your mother.” 

“ It will take more than anybody’s death 
to break her right to me,” exclaimed Bel, ex- 
citedly; “she was kind to me when no on else 
thought about me. I love her, and I will call 
her mamma as long as words can come out of 
my mouth.” 

“ Then you are very ungrateful to me, and I 
might have known you would be; you’ve got your 
father’s blood in your veins.” 

He began with a whine, and ended in a tone of 
denunciation that caused her to start to her feet 
and slip away from him. 

“There! there!” stretching out his hands to- 
wards her, “ I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

u I was not frightened,” said Bel, simply. 


240 ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 

“ Slt down and promise not to call her mother, 
and I shall be all right again.” 

“ And I should be all wrong; grandpapa, if you 
ever ask me that again, I will go away and stay 
all day.” 

“ Where would you go ? You have no place to 
go to,” he said, childishly. 

“ She has. I can go with her.” 

'‘Sit down,” he growled, “ and don’t make a 
fool of yourself.” 

Bel went to the fire and stood with her foot 
upon the stove hearth, lifting her dress with her 
hand ; her head was thrown back, her eyes were 
dancing, and her usually pale cheeks burning hot. 

“ BeI Hope, you’ve got a temper,” he muttered. 

“ * hope I have a heart, grandpapa,” she said, 
turning to him with a smile. 

“ Gome here and kiss me, then,” he entreated, 
with a good-humored laugh. 

Holding her at arms length he searched her 
face by the light of the shaded lamp. u Don’t 
resist your best friend, girl.” 

“ No, grandpapa,” she said, obediently. “ I did 
not finish the English magazine ; “ would you like 
to hear the rest ?” 

“ TIl at, as well as anything,” he said, contentedly. 


LOST OVERBOARD. 


241 


Before she was settled again at his side, Mrs. 
Kel linger entered. 

“ I had the horrors up-stairs. I awoke, and Ma- 
rietta was not there.” 

Bel sprang up and led her to an arm-chair near 
the fire; seating her and pushing a hassock to her 
feet; then she knelt at her side and kissed her 
hand. 

“Mamma, you have me always,” she said, rub- 
bing her head against her shoulder. Grandfather 
kept his growl to himself. The bright audacious 
creature was broken-hearted, all the heart she had 
to break was broken; her unfastened hair fell 
over her shoulders; lips and cheeks were bright 
with color; her eyes reminded him of the eyes of a 
deer he had shot. He did not wonder at the girTs 
infatuation; it was something to see one woman 
fascinate another. 

u Do n^t let me disturb you.” 

“I was reading,” Bel said, lifting her head; 
“you remember Monsieur Dekker, mamma, who 
was with us in Shields. 1 am reading something 
he wrote in that book I told you about.” 

“ Perhaps T would like to hear it.” 

Still, as Bel read on, she was not sure that she did 

like to hear it; she did not half understand it. 

16 


242 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ If you are determined to believe a lie,” Bel 
read, “ God will let you alone, that you may 
believe it ; only so can you learn that it is a lie. 

“ If you are determined to live your own life 
according to your own way, God will let you alone 
and let you live it — if it cast yon into the Red Sea, 
as it did that hardened king of Egypt, blame your- 
self for it ; to-morrow will follow yesterday in your 
life, whether you live or die.” 

Mrs. Kellinger groaned aloud, and covered her 
face with both hands. To-morrow had followed 
her yesterday ; would there be another to-morrow 
still ? 

“ 4 1 do not see how you can make anything for 
to-day or for us out of the life of Saul;’ one said to 
me. 

“ God chose Saul for the kingdom, and then he 
sent the kingdom from him and took his mercy 
away from him — all for his disobedience ; for 
one disobedience, was it ? Do you wonder why 
God takes your kingdom away from you ? He 
chose you for it; did you hold it as tributary to 
him? Were you so faithful that he added to it? 
Did you cast it away yourself, out of selfishness, 
out of ambition, out of disobedience ? 

“ Saul was chosen and got his kingdom without 


LOST OVERBOARD. 


243 


fighting, without even waiting for it. He was not 
prepared, as David was, to inherit his kingdom. 
More and more I believe in waiting and prepar- 
ation.” 

“ I never waited for anything,” interrupted Mrs. 
Kellinger. 

“By way of contrast I am reminded of Caleb; 
he said the Lord kept him alive forty-and-five 
years that he might receive the promise spoken 
unto Moses ; he kept his strength through all those 
years to go out and to come in, and then Hebron 
became his inheritance because he wholly followed 
the Lord. He was not worn out or discouraged 
with his years of waiting; he had been too busy 
following the Lord for that. Not one disobedience 
is recorded against him. Which one do you think 
had the best of it ?” 

“ It’s too late for me to have any Hebron now,” 
mourned the contrite heart. 

“ He had a long between times,” commented Bel, 
brightly, “ forty-five years.” 

“ But he kept his strength,” said the old man, 
“so it didn’t matter.” 

“ Grandpapa, do you know all about Caleb ? ” 

“ I don’t know all about anybody, child.” 

“ Can I find it in a book ? ” 


244 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Bless you, child ; don’t you know Caleb is in 
the Bible ? ” 

“ He is not in my New Testament.” 

“ I wish you would put that French book in the 
fire and read the Bible in English,” he said, fret- 
fully. 

“ I will read it in English — when I have one, but 
I will not put my dear little French book in the 
fire; Mr. Prosper Dekker would not bid me to.” 

“ He’s a man of more than one tongue, too. 
Every book but English is heathenish to me.” 

Bel laughed and told him he was a queer old 
grandfather. 

“ I wish I could see Prosper Dekker,” said Mrs. 
Kellinger. 

“ He is in Italy,” replied Bel. “Mamma, why 
do you wish to see him ?” 

“Because,” with her audacious laugh, “I’m 
afraid of being landed in the Red Sea.” 

“ This is the next thing to seeing him,” said Bel, 
“ shall I read on ? ” 

“ 0 yes,” in a resigned tone. 

“ Of course,” said grandfather, emphatically. 

“ 4 Now if I had a friend,’ said somebody yester- 
day. I wonder if the Lord is pleased to hear us say 
that when he is our friend. It is like the children 


LOST OVERBOARD. 


245 


of Israel saying: 4 Now if we had a king to go out 
to war before us ! ’ when God was their king. 
Before I began to worry about the things I couldn’t 
help, I’d set to work to right the things I could 
help—’’ 

44 That’s common sense,” interrupted grand- 
father, bringing his hands together. 

44 Go to the Lord with requests, but not with 
complaints. Do not in words, or without words, 
blame him for your lost lives, your wasted lives, 
your disobedient lives. Do not say if things had 
been different you would have been different; 
rather, believe that if you had been different the 
people around you would have been different. It 
is always safe to begin first with oneself. A 
thought must not necessarily be neiv , to be an 
inspiration; but we must feel it (which is more 
than thinking it) in a new fashion. The newness 
must be in us ; God does not change his truth, he 
changes us; he makes us new creatures.” 

Isobel Kellinger dropped her head again, with 
the nearest approach to a prayer she had prayed 
for years: 44 1 'want to be a new creature; I’m sick 
and tired of the old creature.” 

Bel read on. She did not catch a word; she 
scarcely knew when Marietta came in, and the 


246 


ISOBEL' S BETWEEN TIMES. 


reading ceased; and yet, contradictory creature 
that she was, when she lifted her head she was 
thinking that mourning would be extremely be- 
coming to her; that she regretted taking it off after 
her mother died ; for people had said she would 
never look so handsome in anything else. 

Marietta had said to her that morning: “ Isobel 
Kellinger, the only thing in which you are like a 
woman is your weakness; you are a child in every 
other thing.” 

When she went to the old man to kiss him 
good-night, as she did every night, he held her 
hand a moment, and looked up into her beautiful 
face : 

“ Isobel, you have no husband now; you need 
some kind of strength around your life. Stay here 
as long as you will.” 

“ I must stay with Bel, Uncle Harold.” 

“ So you both seem to think,” he muttered. 

“And I shall pay my board,” she added, 
proudly. 

“No, you needn’t. Give the money to the 
child.” 

Isobel Kellinger could not sleep that night nor 
the next; Bel watched the hours through with 
her, talking to her, and keeping up the fire. 


LOST OVERBOARD . 


247 


“As soon as I drop asleep,” she moaned, “I 
hear the sound of the sea. I heard something in 
a church once about the sea giving up its dead. 
What was that for, do you suppose ?” 

“ I do not know,” was the sorrowful reply. “ I 
never heard of it.” 


XVI. 


THE FREHCH LESSOH. 

About nine o’clock that January morning, the 
sun shone out; the green branches of the ever- 
greens, and the bare branches of maple, cherry, 
apple, pear, elm and locust, were burdened with a 
weight of ice; every twig was sheathed in ice, and 
every blade of grass was iced to many times its 
own thickness. As soon as the sun burst out, the 
icicles came clattering down ; the earth was in a 
blaze of dazzling silver light. 

A figure wrapped around in a crimson shawl, ran 
down the steps and across the lawn to a pear tree, 
and standing under it, shook the low branches and 
laughed aloud under the pelting shower of rattling 
ice. 

Grandfather stood at the window rapping on the 
pane and laughing. 

“ Red Riding Hood, don’t let any wolf eat you 
up,” he had cautioned, as the crimson figure danced 
around his arm-chair. 

( 248 ) 


THE FRENCH LESSON 


249 


“ The wolf ” might be Miss Jue Dekker or her 
brother, for it was Saturday morning, and the 
French- American girl, as Miss Jue disdainfully 
called her, was engaged on Saturday morning, 
between the hours of ten and eleven, to read 
French with Professor Dekker. 

The hour oftener stretched its minutes to two 
hours, for much conversation in English pushed 
itself in between the rapid French phrases. 

Grandfather s eyes watched the red figure as it 
sped across the road and ran along the piazza; then 
with a sigh, or rather a groan, he thumped his 
cane back to his chair and dropped into it, feeling 
injured and deserted because he must miss the 
light of his old eyes all the morning. It would be 
all the morning, he muttered, and he could not see 
why Bel Hope had been so “ stubborn ” about earn- 
ing a little money for herself. What was the mat- 
ter with the young things of this generation; what 
did they want to be independent for ? 

The next thing a woman would not marry 
a man unless she might be independent and earn 
her own bread and butter. They would be send- 
ing for her, before long, to come to that 'board- 
ing-school in town and teach her jabbering gibber- 
ish ; he would forbid her to speak a word of her 


250 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


heathen tongue; and if her French Testament 
were not, in some queer manner, the word of 
God, he would throw it into the fire. He had 
heard that French books had bad morals, and 
had forbidden her to read any beside that small 
Testament. And now she was over there read- 
ing French books with that dangerous young pro- 
fessor. Groaning again, he thumped his cane upon 
the carpet until Marietta hurried in from her Sat- 
urday morning baking to see if anything new 
ailed him. 

“ I want Bel,” he shouted angrily; “ what did 
you favor her going over to that house for ?” 

“ Because I wasn’t willing to see her die before 
my eyes for want of fresh air;” was the indignant 
retort. “ Isobel will come and talk to you while 
she sews.” 

“ On that black stuff! I hate to see it around. 
It’s all a hollow mockery. Keep her away from 
me. I’ll sit here and watch till the child comes.” 

Marietta departed with the rolling pin in her 
hand, mentally thankful that the child had some 
one to fight for her rights, and openly declaring to 
Isobel that the old man was the only wolf poor 
little Bed Biding Hood had to be afraid of. 

“ She’s mine,” said Bel’s mother, fiercelv. 


THE FRENCH LESSON. 


251 


“ I guess she’s her own,” remarked Miss Devoe. 

The glorious silver light was shining in at the 
windows over the way ; Miss Jue sat near her work 
basket, mending a pair of gloves for her brother, 
and listening to the conversation by the hearth 
with most intent ears and eyes. It was a pity 
that Perez’s French needed rubbing up at this 
late day ; why could not the girl go into a store or 
learn a dressmaker’s trade, if she had to earn her 
living ? And why was she above anybody’s kitchen, 
with all her French airs and doll-baby’s face ? She 
had nothing to boast of in the way of a father, and 
her grandfather’s property was mortgaged. 

“No,” Bel was saying, with her pretty light 
laugh, “you are not speaking correctly, Mon- 
sieur.” 

Bel did not love Miss J ue Dekker, but she loved 
this tasteful, comfortable sitting-room; it was a 
room to practice in, to read in, to dream dreams in, 
to be altogether happy in — if Miss Jue were not 
in it. 

“Miss Bel,” said Perez, “1 suppose, out of cour- 
tesy, I should come to you.” 

“ 0 no,” she returned hastily, u we have no 
room like this. I love to see it once a week. And, 
then — ” but how could she say that it was an in- 


252 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


expressible relief to get away from the constant 
demands of her grandfather. 

Once she had belonged all to herself; and now 
she did not belong at all to herself. 

The next English words that Miss Jue caught 
were : u Miss Bel, is your own education finished ?” 

“ I thought so — but since you talked to me I do 
not think so. What is my education ?” 

“ I will tell you what Mr. Ruskin thinks it is. 
He thinks you should be taught to spin, weave and 
sew; to learn to cook all ordinary food exquisitely, 
to be disciplined in the practice of vocal music; to 
be taught gentleness to all brute creatures, fin- 
ished courtesy to your own sex and to mine, to 
speak truth with rigid care, to obey orders with the 
precision of a slave.” 

“ I do obey grandpapa’s orders with the precision 
of a slave, ’ sighed Bel. “I read when I am tired, 

I talk when I can think of nothing to say; I sing 
when my throat is sore, and I stay in the house 
when I am in agony to rush out into the air 
and scream. You are looking at me, Miss Jue. 

I am not at all sweet and patient towards poor 
grandpapa.” 

“ I should think you would be ashamed to con- 
fess it, was the hard reply. “You are dependent 


THE FRENCH LESSON 253 

■upon him for every mouthful you eat, and yet you 
grudge him a little daily service.” 

44 I said I was bad,” said Bel, sorrowfully. 44 I 
cried about it last night. I am not willing . At 
first T loved to do everything, but now I am weary 
of the staying in and never having time to write 
letters to France. And he rebukes me if I sew too 
much or knit too much, and forget him.” 

44 You deserve rebuke,” was the unrelenting re- 

pty- 

44 Mamma does not think so,” said Bel, quickly. 

44 She is as selfish as you are. She wants a home 
in her idleness, as you do.” 

44 You mistake, madam e,” cried the girl, flushing, 
44 mamma pays her board.” 

44 Julia, you forget yourself,” said Perez, sharply, 
44 these things surely do not concern you.” 

44 Selfishness and idleness and extravagance al- 
ways concern me,” answered Miss Jue, in her 
most virtuous tone, 44 and^in gratitude and shirking 
duty is the worst of all.” 

44 1 will be grateful,” promised Bel. 4 - But this 
morning it was all so new to me. I did not know 
America was like this, — I wanted to be out in the 
sounds and the shining lights.” 

44 And you grudged coming to me,” said Perez. 


254 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Yes, monsieur, I did. But in no other way 
could I get out into it, at all.” 

“ Would you like to drive with me? I will show 
you miles of it.” 

“0 no !” cried Bel, looking distressed. 

“She is staying away from her grandfather too 
long now,” Miss Jue announced, snapping her 
watch. 

“0 no,” said Bel, innocently: “I told him the 
lesson would be an hour and a half this morning.” 

“Is this English what you call French?” in- 
quired Miss Jue, tartly. 

“Mr. Perez, speak French, please,” entreated 
Bel. 

“ I can’t,” said Perez, seriously. “ I cannot 
translate all I wish to say into French. I wish to 
tell you the rest of Mr. Buskin’s views concerning 
your education.” 

The red shawl was thrown back over her chair, 
and the light blue shoulders and the fluffy yellow 
hair rested against it. A large volume was open 
in her lap, and both hands were resting upon it. 
She had been reading aloud from it. Her pupil 
sat at the other side of the fire with his legs crossed 
(after begging pardon for the ease of his position), 
his hands also, holding a book ; but his head was 


THE FRENCH LESSON. 


255 


thrown back, and he was watching his teacher, as 
he taught her about her education. Miss Jue had 
said to herself more than once, that he earned him- 
self the dollar an hour he had promised to pay his 
make-believe teacher. She had no faith in his sud- 
den desire to perfect himself in French. If the girl 
wanted to earn money, she could find something for 
her to do in the kitchen ; or she might sweep on 
Fridays. 

“ Mr. Ruskin says you must learn the natural 
history of the place you live in, and you must 
know Latin — ” 

“ I know a little.” 

“ Do girls ever know more than a little of any- 
thing ?” was the second interruption. 

“ And you must know the history of five cities. 
Guess which cities they are.” 

“ Paris,” was the quick guess. 

“No.” 

“ Paris is worth knowing about,” said Bel, jeal- 
ously. 

“ Guess again.” 

“ London.” 

“ Of course, London.” 

“ Rome.” 

“ Yes.” 


256 


ISO BEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ Athens.” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Jerusalem.” 

“ Perhaps he takes for granted that you know 
about Jerusalem.” 

u Hebron,” she ventured. 

“Where’s Hebron ?” 

“ I do not know. Mr. Prosper Dekker does. 
He wrote about it.” 

Go on, please. I said five; you have guessed 
three. London, Pome, Athens.” 

“ New York.” 

He laughed. “No, you little Yankee.” 

u P e kin. Bel seemed to be enjoying the fun of it. 

“No.” 

u Then I do not know,” she said, decidedly. 

“Two cities in Europe.” 

“St. Petersburg.” 

“No.” 

“ I do not know. I am not learned.” 

“ You are very ignorant if yon forget Venice and 
Florence. Don’t you know something about 
them ?” 

“I knew their names.” 

You did not just now. Mr. Ruskin would say 
your education had been deplorably neglected.” 


THE FRENCH LESSON. 


257 


“ You did not know about Hebron,” was the re- 
partee, with a touch of sauciness, at which Miss 
Jue frowned. 

At first, this girl was so shy, she could scarcely 
raise her eyes; and now, she was absolutely disre- 
spectful. Miss Jue had felt all along that she was 
a deceitful piece. 

“ That is in Prosper s line. I suppose it’s in the 
Bible,” he returned, carelessly. 

“ Do you not know about the Bible ?” 

“ No, Miss Bel, 1 acknowledge to my shame I do 
not.” 

“Is it not worth knowing ?” she inquired, earn- 
estly. 

“ The wisest men that have ever lived think so.” 

“ Then why do you not know it ?” 

“ Because I am not wise,” he said, easily. 

“ I would rather be wise; I wish to know it, like 
Mr. Prosper Dekker.” 

“ Well ! in a prolonged breath, “ I should call 
that presumption.” 

Perez laughed at his sister’s tone, and Bel 
looked uncomprehending; she did not quite under- 
stand the signification of the last word, or why 
it could have anything to do with learning what 

Mr. Prosper Dekker knew. 

17 


258 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES, 


“ Monsieur, we are not reading French,” re- 
buked the French teacher, demurely. 

After the lesson was finished, and Bel had 
wound the red shawl about her head and shoul- 
ders, she went to Miss Jue and stood before her 
penitently. 

“ I am ungrateful, and I am glad you told me. 
So long I was afraid to come, and so long I had no 
home that was like a real home, that I was un- 
happy, and thought nothing good would come to 
make me happy. And now I am so happy; the 
only trouble is that my grandpapa loves me too 
dearly. I was wicked to be so weary. I will go 
home and not be weary of serving him. We do 
not grieve about poor papa as at the first, and I 
have nothing to make me sad or unhappy till the 
next sorrow comes. I will be good now while 
nothing sad is happening to me.” 

Miss Jue pricked her finger nervously; it was in 
her heart that the words and the attitude were 
a pretty piece of acting; but when she looked 
up into the troubled eyes that were shining 
through happy tears, she found no voice for re- 
buke. 

“ Come over between times,” she said, cordially. 

“ I am glad that you like my sitting-room. Perez 


THE FRENCH LESSON. 


259 


lias some books about those cities; you may come 
over and read them.” 

Self-contradictory Miss Jue was ashamed of her- 
self for her impulsiveness ; but then she might lose 
the books or soil them, if she took them home. 

“ Oh, may I ?” cried Bel, joyously, “ I would be 
too happy to sit here and read while grandpapa 
takes his nap. When he awakes aunt Marie will 
beckon to me at the wdndow. Thank you, Mad- 
ame.” 

Red Riding Hood ran across the street and 
rushed all in a glow into grandfather’s presence. 

“There was no wolf, grandpapa; Miss Jue was 
very good to me to-day.” 


XVII. 


ALMOST A WOMAN. 

The silver glitter of that winter day Bel was 
sure she would never forget; she wrote about it 
to Lizette and to J anet Derniot ; these two, with 
her English schoolmates in England, and the chat- 
tel box, Ellinor, were Bel’s only girl friends ; 
grandfather allowed her no time to make friends 
in the neighborhood. 

“ I her mother,” he explained to Miss Jue. 
“ I am determined to keep this girl safe under my 
wings. I am determined that she shall not be an 
hour away from me unless I know where she is, 
and who is with her. If I could go about with 
her that would be another thing. Do you think 
she pines and frets because I keep her shut up ? ” 
he questioned, anxiously. 

“I would like to see the girl that wouldn’t,” in- 
terposed Miss Marietta, “all young things want 
freedom.” 


( 260 ) 


ALMOST A WOMAN. 


261 


“ Let the young things behave themselves 
then,” declared the old man, with the look that 
Isobel Kellinger called “dangerous.” 

“It is time to stop when that look comes,” she 
had told Bel. 

“ I will not if I am right,” said Bel. “ I have 
talked that look away.” 

“You are the only one who can do it then,” was 
the laughing rejoinder; “he crushes me with his 
steel blue eyes.” 

Bel’s prison-house, as her mother sometimes 
named the sitting-room, was a very pleasant place 
of confinement ; it was the only large room in the 
small farmhouse; two rooms had been thrown into 
one and a bay window added that year Hope 
Devoe ran away from her father ; he had sent her 
to her cousins, and had the changes made as a 
birth-day surprise. 

Hope thanked him with a silent, convulsive 
embrace ; while in the city she had seen Captain 
Kellinger and had promised for his sake to steal 
away from her old father. He was white-haired 
and sixty-five, then, and that w'as more than 
twenty-one years ago. 

Her grandfather was the mosfc aged person Bel 
had even seen ; had he lived a century she could 


262 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


not have regarded him with greater veneration; 
and yet, to the surprise of them all, she withstood 
him to his face. 

Miss J ue said she knew her power. 

It was two months since Bel had sent over the 
sea her description of that January thaw, and the 
April sunshine streamed in at Miss Jue’s win- 
dows. 

Grandfather was taking his long afternoon nap, 
with Aunt Marie sewing at his side; the two 
Isobels were over the way; the elder Isobel had 
won her way to Miss Jue’s heart in some fashion 
unaccountable to them both, and a day seldom 
passed that one or the other did not u run over.” 

The attraction to Bel this Saturday afternoon 
was a book on one of the five cities in which she 
had become interested; the attraction to her 
mother was the presence of Prosper Dekker ; she 
felt “ safe ” with him. 

When she entered the sitting-room, she found 
Bel and her book in a distant corner; Miss Jue, 
as usual, hovering around her sewing basket; and 
the two young men standing on the hearth-rug 
with their backs to the fire. Perez was speaking 
in the bantering manner he had a way of assum- 
ing with his grave cousin. Prosper Dekker stood 


ALMOST A WOMAN, 


263 


with more erectness than when he had walked the 
deck of the Goodspeed; there was a health tint 
about his temples and forehead, and a springiness 
in his motions that contrasted well with the old 
listless attitudes. 

He had passed through the fire, and he had not 
been burned. 

After throwing aside her shawl and the white 
cloud that she had wound about her head, Mrs. 
Kellinger seated herself at Miss Jue’s side and 
drew her pretty fancy work from her pocket. 

The dead black of her dress heightened the fresh- 
ness of her beauty. She had fastened a cap of white 
crape over the shining waves of her dark hair; be- 
neath it her eyes shone with a chastened light, and 
her lips were tremulous, and shy, and sweet. 

“I am afraid all the time,” she had said to Pros- 
per Dekker. 

“ Do you trust in God, this time you are afraid ?” 
he asked. 

She answered: “I don’t know him. I haven’t 
thought about him.” 

Bel had loved her mother when she was gay and 
bright, when she laughed and sang and danced; 
but now, in her sorrow and her fear, she told her: 

“ Mamma, I love you more than I can.” 


264 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


While the ladies were putting their heads to- 
gether over the new fancy work Mrs. Ivellinger had 
brought, and while Bel was lost in Venice, the 
conversation between the gentlemen upon the 
hearth-rug became more serious. 

“ The conscious life of every individual man, 
essentially consists in an action and reaction 
between his mind and all that is outside him — 
the ‘ Ego and the Non Ego,’ ” quoted the voice 
of Prosper; and Bel lifted her eyes to listen. 
To listen to the cousins talking to each other 
was second only to have Mr. Perez talk to her 
alone. The French lesson had degenerated to 
English conversation, and books were often laid 
aside that teacher and pupil might talk to each 
other about people not bound in books: Perez 
and Isobel. 

The next quotation was more clear to her: 

“The real self-formation of the Ego commences 
with his consciousness of the ability to determine 
his own course of thought and action.” 

Mrs. Kellinger was listening, also, with a mind 
only a little less receptive than the younger mind 
of wide-awake Isobel. 

“My time is coming late,” she said to Prosper 
Dekker: “but I know it is coming. I never had 


ALMOST A WOMAN. 


265 


any one to tell me, and I am one of the kind that 
has to be told." 

She had told him the story of her husband’s 
death ; and then with broken words and sobs, the 
story of their last parting ; and how his hopeless 
face, and the dash of the water, awoke her in the 
middle of the night. 

44 It has brought me to my senses.” 

He had added: “And to your heart.” 

The new stitch was laid aside. Miss Jue ac- 
knowledged that cousin Prosper was one of the 
few people she cared to listen to. She caught the 
word 44 superstition,” and hastened to say : 

44 I saw a superstition last night. An Irish girl 
who lives up the road a mile, was here last night 
visiting in the kitchen, and I went out just as she 
stood in the door to go. It was dark last night, 
no moon and no stars, and I said to her: 4 Mary, 
aren’t you afraid ?’ 4 Oh, no,’ she said: 4 4 4 1 made 

the sign of the cross before I started.’ I wanted 
to tell her she was a deluded, superstitious thing. 
Sign of the cross, indeed !” 

44 Lady Mary Wortley Montagu writes, that 
when the Grecians were inoculated they had it 
done after the sign of the cross, one small 
wound in the middle of the forehead, one on 


266 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


the breast, and one on each arm,” replied her cousin 
Prosper. 

“ That was nonsense,” declared Miss Jue’s strong 
voice. 

“ I hope it was not. I hope they felt that they 
w'ere doing it, as we are commanded to do all 
things — in the name of the Lord Jesus.” 

“I don’t believe they did,” with an indignant 
snip with her scissors. 

“ I neither believe nor disbelieve about any par- 
ticular individual,” returned Prosper smiling. “ I 
simply do not know. If that girl, last night, loved 
his cross, and trusted him who was nailed to it; I 
cannot think that the Lord was displeased at her 
manifestation of it.” 

“If she did — ” supplemented Miss Jue. 

“ And not knowing we cannot judge — I mean, I 
cannot,” — he replied, with the suspicion of a twin- 
kle in his deep-set eyes. 

Had he been like Miss Jue, he would have 
looked like her. Often she traced a slight resem- 
blance, and was proud of it. In her own way she 
loved her young cousin Prosper ; more like a man 
than like a woman. She loved people of whom 
she was proud. 

Might she think of the cross when she was 


ALMOST A WOMAN. 


267 


afraid, Mrs. Kellinger was asking herself. Not to 
make the “sign ” of it, but to think of it, as he 
meant. She was always afraid when she awoke 
after dreaming of the sea. 

“And then counting beads” continued Miss Jue, 
in her tone of strong disgust. “ A bead is a sense- 
less thing.” 

“ Bead was the Anglo-Saxon word for prayer,” 
said Perez: “counting beads is therefore simply 
counting one’s prayers.” 

“ As if one had to know !” said Bel. “ I have 
seen those rosaries all my life. I thought once I 
would like to have one.” 

“ To count your prayers ?” asked Miss Jue. 

Bel colored; she had thought of that. It was 
when a French girl at school had in her devoted 
love to her, sought to bring her into her own 
church. What kept her when she had no one to 
know or care ? Bel knew now, that it was the 
Lord who had been watching over her all her life. 
He had cared when she was forlorn. 

“ Do you remember that an angel came and stood 
at the altar, having a golden censer; and there was 
given unto him much incense, that he should offer 
it with the prayers of all the saints upon the golden 
altar, which was before the throne ?” 


268 


ISO. BEL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


Bel’s bright face brightened; were any of her 
childish, foolish prayers there ? On the golden al- 
tar before the throne ? Her prayers to-day were 
that she might be more glad to belong to grand- 
papa. 

“Speaking of superstitions,” said Perez, break- 
ing the silence which followed Prosper’s question : 
“ it was anciently supposed that if a witch made 
a waxen image of any one, and hung it by the 
fire, as the image wasted away so would the 
original.” 

Bel’s laugh rang through the room. 

“ Would you make an image of anybody if that 
were true, Miss Bel ?” asked Perez, with the utmost 
seriousness. 

“ I will ot you, if you persist in speaking English 
to me, as you did this morning,” she said with 
laughing eyes. 

“Another superstition is,” he went on, “ that the 
Santo Casa at Loretto, was supposed to be the 
house in which the Virgin was born, it having 
been supernaturally transplanted from Galilee to 
Italy, and placed in a wood at midnight.” 

“ Some people believe anything,” said Miss Jue. 

“ You said yesterday you wouldn’t be married 
on a Friday,” he said, teazingly. 


ALMOST A WOMAN. 


269 


44 But 1 did not add — nor any other day, she 
retorted, with unsmiling humor. 

44 And you do not believe that monkeys refrain 
from talking that they may not be made to work?” 
he continued. 

44 I believe that shirking is left for lazy human 
beings.” 

44 As you scolded me this morning for lazily pre- 
ferring horseback riding to raking your flower 
beds for exercise.” 

“I believe that brain work does make people 
physically lazy,” she said, sharply, 44 and you are 
no exception.” 

He laughed, and tossed a folded newspaper at 
her head. 

44 Jue thinks I am too lazy to believe in works 
as emphatically as she does.” 

44 Mr. Perez, what do you mean by works ?” 

Bel dropped her book on the nearest table and 
went to her mother, standing beside her chair 
with her hand laid upon her shoulder. 

The thought shot through Miss Jue’s mind: 44 1 
wish somebody loved me like that.” 

A small se'cond cousin, ill to-day in an orphan 
asylum, might have loved her; but Miss Jue, know- 
ing all her loneliness, had never one thought of 


270 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES . 


taking the child into her own home. She did not 
like to be bothered with other people’s children ; to 
be loved by other people’s children was a way she 
had not thought to put it. She had told herself 
with bitterness against him that the Lord had 
not done much for her naturally, and had never 
thought to ask him to do ten times as much for 
her through grace. 

Like Isobel Kellinger, she had to be “ told,” 
unlike Isobel Kellinger, she was not yet ready to 
be told. 

“ Works, Miss Bel ! Meriting the divine appro- 
val by what I do, I suppose — and meriting it to 
such a degree that I am saved by it; my doings 
thus becoming my passport to heaven.” 

“ But you do not believe that,” she decided. 

“ How do you know that?” 

“ Because,” she hesitated, “you have good com- 
mon sense, and you lcnoio you cannot do every 
good thing faultlessly.” 

“You seem to know it.” 

“ About myself? Yes.” 

“ And about me ?” in his most provoking tone. 

But she bent over her mother and would not 
answer. 

“ 1 do not believe — I know in fact that I would 


ALMOST A WOMAN. 


271 


not assist at the washing of the feet that Greville 
witnessed. The pilgrims sit on benches and under 
their feet are small wooden tubs. The women sit 
in the same w r ay. A princess and a number of Ro- 
man ladies washed the feet of the women. A very 
old woman had sores on her feet, produced by the 
itch ; the princess handled them very tenderly. It 
was a real washing of dirty feet; no sham about 
it,” said Perez, after waiting a second for the 
answer that was not ready. 

“ It is a Bible command,” said Miss Jue. 

“ Have you ever obeyed it ?” inquired her 
brother. 

“ As often as you have,” she retorted. 

“Bel obeys it every night,” said Bel’s mother, 
“ washing and rubbing his feet at bed-time gives 
grandfather a good night’s rest.” 

“ Who did it before you came ?” asked Miss Jue. 

“ Marietta did it once a week,” answered Mrs. 
Kellinger, “ but Bel found it soothed him, and she 
insisted upon the daily bathing.” 

“Do you like to do it, Miss Bel?” inquired Perez. 

“ I like to do things for grandpapa,” she evaded. 
“ I did not know it was in the Bible.” 

“ They did not teach you to read the Bible over 
there, then,” said Miss Jue. 


272 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ She reads to grandfather every day/’ her mo- 
ther hastened to say. 

“ Prosper, how do yon like yonr new farm ?” 
interposed Perez, watching the deepening tint of 
Bel’s cheeks. 

u I have liked it a long time.” 

But yon haven’t owned it a long time.” 

Ten days have I been its proud and happy 
owner. Miss Bel, it is not in the Basque province, 
but I want you to come and see it when the coun- 
try is green, and the shore is alive with gay pleas- 
ure seekers.” 

If I could I said Bel; “ but oh, mamma, grand- 
papa would never let us go, would he ?” 

“ Never while he is in his present state of mind; 

I will promise to bring you back safe, but he 
would not trust me.” 

Pino away, and he will see that you need sea 
air,” advised Perez. 

“ 1 cannot pino away,” laughed Bel; “he says I 
grow rosier every day.” 

The Basque provinces ? And this was the Mr. 
Dekker of whom she had been so afraid; how dif- 
ferent that cabin from this room ! How different 
herself — then and now ! 

“ 1 vvan t you both for the month of August, 


ALMOST A WOMAN. 


273 


when Perez and Jue come to me; my trusted 
old housekeeper is already at her post; I will 
show you one of the finest spots in America, Miss 
Bel." 

“ I am afraid you cannot/’ said Bel, discontent- 
edly. 

“ I will hunt up another lost granddaughter,” 
proposed Perez; “you never told him about that 
little sister you had hidden away who is more like 
your mother than even yourself?” 

“ No,” laughed Bel, “ and if she were in exist- 
ence, he would not make the exchange.” 

She was watching the window opposite from her 
post behind her mother’s chair. “ There’s my sig- 
nal, mamma, the shade is raised; I must go in- 
stantly.” 

“Poor little prisoner,” said her mother, fondly. 

“ Give him a bigger dose of paregoric next 
time,” advised Perez. 

With a reproachful glance at him, Bel wound 
herself up in her red shawl. 

“ I do not like to have you laugh at my grand- 
papa.” 

“ I beg your pardon,” said the offender: “it was 
cruel ; he is a dear old man. I will come over and 

read to him all the evening, to prove that my re- 
18 


274 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


pentance is real. He snubbed me last time, but 
I’ll try again.” 

“ Oh, thank you,” Bel accepted joyfully. “ Your 
reading pleases him best of all.” 

He opened the door for her and stood on the 
piazza while she crossed the street. The old man’s 
chair was at the window; the white head was 
bobbing against the pane. 

“ It is making a woman of you, little girl,” he 
said, half aloud, as he went in to the others: “and 
your mother s sorrow is making a woman of her.” 

Would any happening, or any service make a 
woman of his sister Jue ? 

“I am to stay to tea,” announced Mrs. Kellinger, 
as he re-entered ; with tone and manner as girlish as 
that of the girl he had watched crossing the street. 

“ I have promised her oysters and pickled 
peaches,” added the housekeeper. 

“ And Prosper has promised talk, I’ll be bound,” 
said the professor. 


XVIII. 


PKOSPER’S TALK. 

“Do you not think the waiting people should 
have the sunniest faces in the world ?” 

The three had drawn nearer the fire; not for the 
sake of the heat; for the night was mild, out in 
the darkness, but the blaze allured them. Mrs. 
Kellinger sat between the two, on a lower chair; 
her work in her lap, and her fingers idle. 

Miss Jue despised idleness and idle people. Her 
fingers flew over her coarse knitting; she prided 
herself upon her charitableness: these heavy stock- 
ings were for an Old Man’s Home she had visited. 
Mrs. Kellinger’s work was for herself; luxurious 
black silk stockings. 

u Pride and luxury and love of ease,” sighed 
Miss Jue, in the depths of her heart, as she looked 
at the half-finished dainty stocking. Such a small 
foot ! She said she wore number two ! How could 
she be listening to serious words with that bit of 
vanity in her lap ? 


( 275 ) 


276 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ I think that depends upon what they are wait- 
ing for! answered Miss Jue. “ You wouldn’t ex- 
pect me to wait for bad news with a cheerful face.” 

“ If people expected good news, there would be 
more good news to expect.” 

u I feel as if nothing pleasant would ever come 
to me again, said Mrs. Kellinger. u I have thrown 
away my chances, and my life is wrecked — at 
forty.” 

“ That is rather hard on you, if you live to be as 
old as Mr. Devoe,” was Prosper’ s quick answer. 
“ Half of your life to be wrecked, floating around, 
a picturesque feature of the landscape, that is 
all.” 

“ Prosper, how can you talk nonsense?” asked 
Miss Jue, sternly. 

‘‘I answer her nonsense with nonsense.” 

“Is it nonsense?” inquired the widow, lifting 
her eyes with serious questioning. 

“It is worse; it is wickedness; it is distrust of 
God's wisdom and care for you.” 

Pie is \ery good to care for me,” she answered, 
humbly. 

“ You w iH think it a strange question to ask, but 
can you thank God for leaving you to sin ?” 

“I think it is a very strange question,” said 


PROSPER' S TALIC 


277 


Miss Jue, “and I can say that I do not thank him 
for such a wicked thing.” 

“ As what ? Leaving you to sin ? ” 

“As sinning, I meant.” 

“ I know somebody whose first thought when 
convicted of a hitherto unrecognized sin is: 4 1 am 
glad God has shown me that that is in me.’ Sin is 
in us, and the mercy of God opens our eyes to it, 
through our doings, our ambitions, through the 
undone things in our lives, often times in our very 
prayers it shows its evil self. May we not thank 
him that he has shown us our true selves ; shown 
us ourselves as his eye sees us? We are cross 
about something, or we think an unkind thought 
about some, one because we are jealous ; prove the 
thought to its depth and we shall find that hideous 
thing at the bottom; or we are disdainful about 
some favor received because we are too proud to 
be under obligation to the donor. Pride, envy, 
jealousy are at the very roots of our hearts, and 
unless they break out in evil ways, how shall we 
know it ? When one cannot see beauty or good- 
ness in another, it is because envy blinds our eyes. 
I do not know of anything that touches me as it 
touches me for two who might be rivals, to admire 
each other. Two women admiring and praising 


278 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


each other, and two men admiring and praising 
each other, is finer to me than the finest painting 
I saw abroad.” 

“ You do not often see it,” said Miss Jue’s tart 
voice. 

“ You see Bel admire me,” said Bel’s mother. 

“ lhat isn t all I see, was Prosper’s rejoinder, 
dhe twenty years between us keep us from 
standing in each other’s way.” 

u Iso one will know that, Mrs. Kellinger, unless 
you divulge it,” remarked Prosper. 

“ I know I look too young,” apologized Mrs. Kel- 
linger smiling, “ but I am her step-mother, all the 
same.” 

“ ^ is hard for one woman to see another have 
everything that she hasn’t,” admitted Miss Jue; 
“the youth, the beauty, the admiration, the some- 
thing ahead that she has lost— or never had. You 
have no pity for such a case, Prosper; you are hard 
on women.” 

“ I think of the beauty of womanhood as possi- 
ble to every woman; woman, like youth, is but 
another name for beauty and gentleness. If a 
woman loves, she is sure to be loved; a loveless 
woman is an unloving woman; to be unloving is 
the hardest lot of all.” 


PROSPER 1 S TALK. 


279 


“ You can’t love everybody,” was the short reply. 

“ If one tries hard, they will find out,” he re- 
turned, smiling at her. 

“ I love so few,” said Mrs. Kellinger. “ I love 
Bel a thousand times better than I did a year ago ; 
and once I did not care much for my own, only 
sister. I do not love Uncle Harold when he’s hard 
to live with.” 

“ What a short list ! ” said Prosper, smiling. 

“I have no daughter; I have no sister,” said 
Miss Jue’s hard voice. 

“ Perez is a good fellow.” 

“ Oh, you and Perez admire each other,” 
returned Miss Jue, discontentedly. “ I do not think 
1 see yet that it is such a good thing for us to fall 
into sin.” 

“ 1 have had a joyful time over my sins, over my 
forgiven sins,” was his quick reply. 

“ Mr. Dekker, I cannot think of you as sinning ,” 
said Mrs. Kellinger, with great earnestness; “ what 
do you do that’s wrong ? ” 

u I distrust the wisdom of God. I try to take 
my life into my own hands; I am shamefully proud 
of myself when I am praised.” 

“ I am glad to hear you say that. It does me 
good to hear people speak of special sins; every- 


280 ISOBEL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 

body will confess to a general sinfulness. Are you 
jealous, sometimes ? ” she continued, anxiously. 

“ I confess it." 

“ Envious ?” 

“ Once in my life I was envious for ten minutes.” 

“ Are you proud ?” 

“ So proud that I confess it on my knees." 

“ But you are kept from many sins ?” 

“ Truly, I am kept; that is the secret of it.” 

Miss Jue Knitted faster and faster ; Prosper was 
as queer as Mrs. Kellinger; she had no taste for 
such personalities ; she thought them ill-bred. 
And she had said to the neighbors that Mrs. Kel- 
Inger was the most perfect lady she had ever met. 

“ A day of no wilful, rebellious sin is as really 
God’s providence as a day of confessed and for- 
given sin ; his mercy happens every minute. His 
mercy happens when there is no happening. 
Being kept out of danger is as truly his watchful- 
ness as being kept safely in danger; being kept 
from sin is as truly his loving kindness as being 
forgiven when we have sinned. 1 love to give 
thanks for the one as well as the other.” 

“As we grow older we are glad of having 
nothing happen, I know that,” acknowledged Miss 
Jue, with emphasis. 


PROSPER’ S TALK. 


281 


“ Having nothing dreadful happen to me is all 
the happiness I want,” said Mrs. Kellinger, speak- 
ing with difficulty. “ I used to be unhappy when 
nothing exciting was going on.” 

“ And now you are waiting for nothing to hap- 
pen !” said Miss Jue, lightly. 

“ 1 can think of nothing but losing Isobel or 
Marie.” 

“ What do you expect to do all your life ?” asked 
Miss Jue. 

“Stay with Isobel as long as her grandfather 
lives, and then I suppose we shall live on together 
somewhere. Mr. Canfield who holds his mortgage 
(you know about the mortgage) has promised not 
to foreclose as long as he lives ; the rest — all that’s 
left is willed to Bel ; we shall have enough to live 
on and take care of Marie, the dear old, unselfish, 
hard-working, loving thing, who has nothing of 
her own.” 

“ That is a very quiet plan,” said Prosper. 

“Your daughter will marry, of course,” sug- 
gested Miss Jue, watching the effect of her words 
upon both countenances. Miss Jue prided herself 
upon “seeing through” people. 

“ 0 yes, I hope she will,” exclaimed Mrs. Kel- 
linger, brightly. “ I am jealous of that constant 


282 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


4 grandpapa/ but I shall not be jealous of some- 
body else. But I can’t think of it; Bel isn’t seven- 
teen, as American girls go.” 

44 If I may be allowed an opinion,” volunteered 
Prosper, with his usual straightforwardness, 44 1 do 
believe that if a woman miss a happy marriage she 
must take a second-rate happiness in some other 
life.” 

44 Then my happiness is second rate,” laughed 
Miss Jue, harshly. 

Did Mr. Dekker think hers was second rate, 
Mrs. Kellinger reasoned; no, her 44 happiness” had 
been downright misery, and he knew it. She 
would be kinder to John if he might only come 
back to her. He had told her she was born per- 
verse; he would think it now, could he know that 
she wished him back; but it was not that she 
loved him better, it was that she might atone for 
her selfishness. With her opened eyes how selfish 
her life appeared ! How different was Bel’s devo- 
tion to her grandfather ! 

44 Mr. Dekker, I want to know what my life 
means, and what is the good of it — if there’s any 
good of it,” John Eellinger’s wife said, contritely. 

44 Inquire of the Lord ; he will show you day by 
day.” 


PROSPER* S TALK. 


283 


44 But — I am not a Christian — yet. I have gone 
such a little way towards it.” 

44 Towards the Father? The Prodigal’s little way 
was a long way off from the Father. But he saw 
him coming, and did not wait, but ran to meet 
him.” 

44 Marie and I go to church. I understand some- 
thing. Bel can never be spared.” 

“Do you read the New Testament ?” he asked, 
kindly. 

44 Yes, and I listen when Bel reads aloud.” 

“ Do you pray V 

44 1 have prayed ever since — that night,” in a low, 
abashed tone. 

44 Go on step by step as you are led.” 

44 Is that all?” she asked, incredulously. 

44 To be willing to be led ? Have you given 
yourself to God, in the name of Christ?” 

44 No.” 

“Will you?” 

44 Miss Jue was knitting nervously. 

44 1 do not know how.” 

44 Ask Miss Isobel how she gives herself to her 
grandfather ; and give yourself like that, and ten 
times more. You are not your own.” 

Both listeners were silent. 


284 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


Prosper, why don’t yon become an Evangelist ?” 

“ A messenger of glad tidings ? I trust I have.” 

“ Instead of having a church of your own; why 
do you not rest summers and go about in the win- 
ter among the churches ? I know a younger man 
than you, who does it; and crowds flock to hear 
him.” 

“ Tlie L( >rd called him— he has not called me.” 

“ Perhaps he will.” 

Perhaps. He will speak loud enough for me 
to hear.” 

u Put* Mr. Dekker, isn’t there anything lor me 
to do ?” inquired the anxious voice of the other 
listener. 

“ 4 L any man hear my voice and open the door.' 
That is enough for one life time. Open the door, 
and Iceep it open. You will see what will happen 
when the Lord enters in at your heart’s open door. 
He will keep you busy. A life time is a short 
working time. Years of preparation at one end, 
and old age, sometimes coming early, to shorten it 
at the other end. But how few years Christ had 
to finish his Father’s business ! I want to give the 
work of my life Christ’s finish : an active submis- 
sion to God’s will. Who ever loved God’s will as 
he did?” 


PROSPER' S TALK, \ 


285 


Miss Jue could sit delighted in church listening 
to her cousin, but at her own fireside it was not so 
pleasant ; for, sometimes he expected a reply. It 
was a marvel to her that Mrs. Kellinger’s tongue 
could glide along as it did ; she was sure the read- 
iness had come with her foreign travel. She 
believed she would talk to the Queen of England 
as easily as she talked to her. How queer it was 
for two people to sit and talk like that ! Such 
things were well enough in church, or on Sundays; 
but they seemed out of place on week days. 

u Do you think any one of your sins is for- 
given ? ” she came out of her reverie to hear Pros- 
per ask. What would she say to that ? 

“ I do not know that any one is,” was the anx- 
ious reply. 

“ If you are forgiven for one sin, are you not 
forgiven for that one sin as perfectly as you ever 
will be? Are you not as free from its conse- 
quences as you will be at tlie judgment seat of 
Christ ? Do you think God’s forgiveness means 
for a little while, and not forever ? ” he asked, very 
earnestly and tenderly. 

“I am not clear about anything; I know 
nothing about the Bible ; all I know is I am bad, 
and I have been punished, and I want to be good,” 


286 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


was the reply, with the simplicity and directness of 
a child. 

“ For fear of further punishment ? ” he asked, 
sternly. 

“ That has something to do with it, but not all.” 

“ Do you desire to give every waking and sleep- 
ing moment to his service ?” 

“Now, Prosper,” interposed Miss Jue, “who will 
do our work if we neglect it like that ? We are 
not in heaven yet.” 

“We are to think of his work ; he has put that into 
our hand. Let us put the cares of our life into his 
hand. I am sure that the better we do his work, the 
better will our own work (if you must disconnect 
them) be done. Elijah was too weary to cook his 
dinner that time after he had worked so hard for the 
Lord and so the Lord sent an angel to do it for him.” 

“Angels don’t cook my dinners,” muttered Miss 
Jue. 

“Did you ever neglect a dinner for his sake — for 
his special work ? ” asked Prosper, with a smile. 

“No; and I never expect to. I should have to 
go without my dinner,” with sudden asperity. 
“And I imagine some saints would go hungry if 
it were not for hard-working sinners.” 

“ You will never know whether you will or not, 


PROSPER' S TALK. 


287 


cousin Jue. Mrs. Kellinger, Miss Isobel tells me 
that you play sometimes.” 

He listened with his eyes closed, while she 
played, or rather he did not listen. 

Was he ready for the work of an Evangelist? 
Was he fitted by mental endowment and spiritual 
gifts ? What about his physical condition ? No- 
thing about it. He would listen and obey. He 
would watch for every indication of his Lord’s pur- 
pose in his life, whether it were of further waiting 
or further working. He remembered those days 
and nights in Florence when the battle * within 
himself had waxed hot; how at last, his rebellion 
was utterly subdued, and he had cried: “ Give, or 
take, Lord, only take me and use me.” 

The next day he had gone to Annie Pierrepont 
and told her that she need not break her promise, 
for he would break his; no entreaty of hers would 
induce him to bind her again. Then how the laugh- 
ing light had flashed back into her eyes, and every 
day she had grown stronger. 

There was no “ week day ” in his life after this, 
every day was a day of consecrated service. Lit- 
erally, he had no will of his own. Miss Jue felt 
this concerning him, in the small measure in which 
she felt everything that was higher than herself. 


XIX. 


perez’s talk. 

Marietta was in the kitchen, in the hour that 
her sister sat between her two friends over the way, 
and thought and listened, believed and purposed. 

Marietta was usually in the kitchen, whether it 
were morning, noon, or night. Her sister declared 
that she was a slave; and that she loved her bond- 
age. 

“ I love this kitchen,” Marietta returned, in her 
comfortable fashion, u and I love my work in it. 
I was tired of being shut up with Uncle Harold. 
I was glad enough to send that slovenly woman 
away, and come and take her place. My kitchen 
is a palace compared to hers.” 

Marietta was a little thing. Her head scarcely 
touched her sister’s shoulder; her eyes were a 
lighter brown than Mrs. Kellinger’s, and her hair 
was thickly streaked with gray; she was so fragile 

that a dress of Isobel’s hung loosely upon her. 

( 288 ) 


PEREZ'S TALK. 


289 


This winter she weighed exactly ninety-five pounds 
arid three-quarters. Hopping about like a bird, 
she was about the house from morning till night; 
she was like a bird, also, in her frequent bursts of 
song. Her voice was, even at her age, the sweet- 
est thing about her. 

From her childhood she had done the neglected 
things; when others shirked, she was ever the 
busiest; what no one else loved to do, she esteemed 
her precious privilege; when she reviewed her 
busy years, all she could think of was the things 
she had left undone. 

She was hopping about the kitchen, when Perez 
Dekker lifted the old-fashioned knocker of the front 
door. Visitors were rare in the evening. She un- 
tied her gingham apron, smoothed back the loose 
gray hairs, and with the brass candlestick in her 
hand went to the door. 

“ Mr. Dekker,” she exclaimed, “are you brave 
enough to come again ? ” 

“ I have taken my life in my hand. I thought 
he might permit Miss Isobel to spend the time with 
her mother. Prosper is there, and she likes to 
hear him talk.” 

“Are you bereft of your senses?” she asked, laugh- 
ing low; “that is just the reason she mustn’t go.” 

19 


290 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ And the reason I mnsn’t come ! Do you think 
he will let me in ? Assure him that I am perfectly 
harmless, more so than I look.” 

With the ceremonious air of ushering in a visit- 
or, Marietta opened the door of the sitting-room, 
and announced: 

“Mr. Perez Dekker.” 

Grandfather’s chair had been wheeled to the 
round table in the bay-window; he was bending 
forward, turning the leaf of an illustrated volume ; 
the blue figure knelt on the carpet at his side; the 
bright head nestled against his shoulder. The old 
man’s hair and beard shone like burnished silver in 
the lamp-light. 

“Mr. Dekker, good evening, sir,” with a stately 
inclination of the silver head. 

Grandfather s tone was not cordial ; it was more 
sullen than dignified. He intended that the dig- 
nity of his greeting should prevent further en- 
trance; the young man would be forced to state 
his errand and leave. 

Isobel’s eyes were glad and shy. She had looked 
over those pictures so many times; she had done 
everything for grandfather so many times. 

“ Will you sit down ?” she asked, rising to her 
feet in slight confusion. 


PEREZ'S TALK. 


291 


“ If I do not intrude.” 

Grandfather’s muttered reply was inaudible. 
Perez deliberately seated himself at the table, and 
took up a book ; his sister said his fingers ached 
unless they held a book. 

“We will finish these pictures another time, 
grandpapa, dear.” 

Growling rather above his breath, grandfather 
gave the volume a push, and it tumbled heavily 
upon the carpet. With a laugh Perez and Isobel 
lifted it together. Grandfather did not smile. 

“Where’s Marietta? Is she making bread in 
the kitchen ?” he inquired. 

“Not Saturday night,” said Isobel. 

“ Let her come and entertain the company 
then.” 

“Do not disturb her,” entreated Perez, easily. 
“I have found a book here. But speaking of 
bread reminds me of something I read the other 
night. Dr. Gobel writes that in a village on the 
White Sea, he found the people using a peculiar 
form of earth in addition to flour in the prepara- 
tion of bread.” 

“ That’s a traveller’s story,” contradicted the old 
man. 

“ Chemical analysis proves it to be purely 


292 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


mineral and unfit for digestion. Hot biscuit with 
them must be rather worse than with us.” 

The girls should go to school and learn better 
than to use it, shouldn’t they, grandpapa?” asked 
Isobel in her laughing voice. 

Grandfather had motioned her to a chair at his 
side; she raised her eyes from her crocheting to 
speak to him. 

“ School doesn’t do much for girls but make them 
flighty and useless, as I can see,” said grandfather 
testily. 

“ Now > grandpapa ! But you don’t mean a French 
school ?” 

“ Home is the best place for girls.” 

“ Until they grow up,” retorted Isobel, with 
dancing eyes. 

“ And then they want to go to somebody’s else 
home,” said grandfather, in his whining tone. 

“ Girls are made just to be disappointments.” 

“ Like my grandmother,” said Bel, mischievously. 

“Like your mother,” he returned, in a loud, 
sharp voice. 

“ 1 am glad that girls are made to study physi- 
ology now-a-days,” Perez hastened to say, for the 
young girl was flushed and tearful. “ Dr. Bennet 
presents the subject forcibly in the opening lecture 


PEREZ'S TALK. 


293 


of the ladies’ course in the Edinburgh University. 
Women are our nurses, Mr. Devoe; we surely want 
excellent nurses. He says women have more to 
do with the preservation and duration of human 
life than even men. Our lives are in these girls’ 
hands.” Mr. Perez shot a glance at the girl oppo- 
site him. 

“ Bel Hope knows that my life is in her hands,” 
grandpapa said tremulously ; “ when she goes I 
shall go, too.” 

“We are neither of us going just yet, grand- 
papa, dear,” said Bel Hope, loosening her fingers 
that she might caress the hand laid upon her arm. 

“He will be as brave as Lady Franklin, Miss 
Isobel,” said Perez, as he played with the edges 
of his book. “Do you remember about the dear 
old lady, at the age of eighty, setting sail to go 
half way round the globe to get a scrap of her 
husband’s writing which some man had in his 
possession, and would not deliver to any hand but 
hers. She loved her husband through forty years, 
and then lived on through twenty years of bereave- 
ment. I wonder, Mr. Devoe, if we men are 
worth such devotion ?” 

“ I think he was,” returned grandfather, inter- 
ested. “ I like to sit by my warm fire, and hear 


294 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


about what those poor fellows had to go through.” 

u fear the tire is not warm enough to-night 
then, to make such a book enjoyable.” 

4 4 I don t want reading to-night ; I want to go to 
bed early,” he replied, with rude directness. 

Isobel frowned as she drooped over her work. 
Perez smiled and opened his book ; clearly he was 
not rendering the evening pleasanter to grand- 
papa’s nurse. 

W hat time is it ? grandfather demanded, un- 
easily. 

Not eight o clock, grandpapa,” was the answer, 
with quick displeasure. 

44 Eight o’clock is late sometimes.” 

44 Shall we finish looking at the pictures ?” she 
asked, impatiently. 

* 4 ^°, light hurts my eyes. I had supper early, 
and am hungry, I want some hot bread and milk.” 

Isobel rolled up her crocheting; the expression 
of her lips was not sweet. 

44 Don’t you go;” he cried, 44 ask Marietta.” 

As she arose Mr. Dekker arose, also; he was 
both amused and provoked. Why could not the 
old fellow let her have a little peace ? 44 1 shall not 
dare to come again.” It was rude, but he spoke 
in French. 


PEREZ'S TALK. 


295 


They passed out into the dark hall together; 
grandfather called out: “Hurry back, Bel Hope, 
don’t stand in the hall.” 

“ I am sorry, Mr. Perez,” she said, “ you see it is 
better for you not to come. No one can help me 
with grandpapa.” 

“ Will he allow you to read to him ?” 

“ 0 yes, I shall read until he is soundly 
asleep.” 

“ Isobel, you are very good to him.” 

“No, I am not,” she said, penitently, “I am 
often angry, and I do not hasten when he bids me, 
and sometimes I do not pity him at all. I want to 
go to church to-morrow, because Mr. Prosper is to 
preach, but he says I must not. Sunday is a 
weary day to him without me. He permitted me to 
go once, and he says I may never go again; that I 
can read and pray at home. So I can, but I need 
to be taught . I want to study and know.” 

“You have books.” 

“ Books are not voices. It is more plain when 
some one speaks to me.” 

“ Does my cousin teach you ?’* 

“ Always,” said Bel; “ he always shows me some 
new thing to do.” 

“ Perhaps he might better have come to-night ; 


296 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


he would know how to interest your grandfather; 
you see I am a bungler.” 

“ I see you are very kind. ,, 

The cane was thumping upon the carpet and the 
querulous voice was calling, “ Bel Hope f 
“Excuse me; was I selfish not to hasten?” 

“/was,” he returned, groping his way along 
the hall. 

. Grandfather sipped his bread and milk in sullen 
silence; Isobel was not sure whether she were too 
angry or too hurt to speak. She was not very old, 
but to be treated like such a little child ! To have 
her friend dismissed as if he were not good 
enough to come ! Were not the prisoners in pris- 
on permitted to see their friends ? 

Here ! take this bowl ! ” be commanded. 

She took it and stood before him holding it in 
both hands. Tou ve got to stop going over there 
to give those heathen French lessons.” 

She gazed at him steadily; he kept his eyes 
fixed upon hers. 

U are not heathen lessons,” she returned, 
attempting to speak lightly. 

“I have said it and it is said.” 

“ Ma y be come here, instead ? ” 

“Ho,” he exclaimed, with husky loudness, bring- 


PEREZ'S TALK. 


297 


ing his cane down with unusual force. “Come 
here and talk a lingo I can’t understand !” 

She turned away; her heart was bitter with 
rebellion ; she had so little outside life ; and these 
lessons were becoming so much to her ; Mr. Perez 
was the only young presence she had about her. 

“ I will give you a dollar a week for doing no- 
thing, if money is what you are hankering after.” 

“ It is better than the money,” she said, sorrow- 
fully. “ I had forgotten all about the money. 
Mamma gives me money, but there is no one else 
to speak French to me. He is like home.” 

“ So I thought ! So I knew ! So I was afraid,” 
he cried, with a mocking laugh. 

“ I like the pretty room, and I like the books, 
and I like Miss Jue when she is not cross.” 

“ And you like Mr. Perez best of all,” he said, 
relentlessly. 

“ Not best, but very much,” was the answer that 
came at last. 

“ Do you like him better than the other one ?” 

“ I like him differently. They are both very 
kind to me,” after a longer pause. 

“ And I am not, I suppose. I make a slave of 
you,” he said, with thick utterance. “ My house 
is your prison, and you live on prison fare.” 


298 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ You are not kind to me now , grandpapa.” 

“ I am doing the kindest thing I know how to 
do. I am guarding and protecting you.” 

“ From what ? ’’ Her innocence was irritating, 
and yet it pleased him. 

“ From the wicked world,” he answered, molli- 
fied. 

“Is the wicked world over there? He is not 
like Mr. Prosper, but he is not wicked. Mr. Pros- 
per admires him.” 

“ You have contradicted me times enough. Set 
that book down, and come here and kiss me, and 
promise me.” 

“ I would rather not do either,” said Isobel, wil- 
fully. “ Grandpapa, I do not love you when you 
treat me so. Mamma is willing that I should go 
over there. I never go anywhere else.” 

Marietta was fumbling at the door-knob out in 
the dark hall; as she entered, Isobel made her 
escape. 

“ I must promise to-morrow,” she half sobbed. 

“ But I will not kiss him until I love him again.” 

Giving an impatient shrug at the sound of the 
thumping cane, she fled in the dark up the stair- 
way; then hardly knowing what she sought, she 
groped her confused, indignant way through seve- 


PEREZ'S TALK. 


299 


ral dark rooms, and down the kitchen stairs, to the 
lighted kitchen. At that moment she would have 
“ run away ” from her grandfather. 

The savory odor of stewed chicken, to-morrow’s 
dinner, gave her a homely Saturday night feeling; 
a candle was burning on the table; Aunt Marie’s 
newspaper, for she w^as a newsy little body, was 
spread out on the red cloth near it; two gray cats 
were curled up on the oil cloth in front of the stove, 
and a basket of cuddling early chickens had been 
tucked into a warm corner behind it. It was a 
homely place, as homely as its small mistress, and 
as neat and cheery. 

The red shades had not been drawn down; 
through the window, as she stood aimlessly at the 
table, Bel caught a glimpse of the lighted windows 
over the way. The only house in America she 
cared for, was to be shut against her ; must she al- 
ways stay at home after to-night? Might she 
have no one to speak her beloved French words to, 
and might she have no more French books to read ? 
Grandpapa had scolded about the last French book 
Mr. Perez had brought her, and torn out the leaf 
on which he had written her name ; and threatened 
to send it back if he dared presume to buy her an- 
other. But this command was harder than that. 


300 


I SOB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


And she must obey, for he might not permit her 
to cross the street at all. Was he so jealous? 
But she did not love him best; she did not love 
him at all. She would defy him and do as she 
pleased; only— only— would she be like her own 
mamma if she did ? And break her promise, and 
not be a comfort to him ? And then it would be 
better if she had not come to him ; she might bet- 
ter have stayed and taught English to the French 
girls at Mademoiselle’s. 

The cane was thumping; again, again, again. 
She smiled, and would not stir a step. 

“Let him thump himself into good humor, then!” 

44 Bel, where are you ?” called Aunt Marie, hur- 
riedly, in the hall. 

Bel snuffed the candle. Aunt Marie sometimes 
said there was news in the candle. Did she wish 
for any news ? Oh, if somebody could tell her 
how long this bondage would last, and if she would 
ever be free ! Would somebody ever come and 
take her a^vay ? But grandpapa might die ! And 
then she was frightened at herself! 

“ Isobel Ivellinger ! Don’t you know your grand- 
father wants you ?” 

44 Yes,” said Isobel, sullenly. 

4 4 What is the matter with you to-night?” 


PEREZ'S TALK . 


301 


“ Everything ! I am as bad as I can be.” 

Aunt Marie took the cover off the kettle and 
poked with an iron spoon among the pieces of 
chicken. 

“ Have you two been quarrelling ?” 

“ He has been quarrelling. I have not.” 

“ Run in quick, then,” coaxingly. 

“ Aunt Marie, I do not wish to. Aunt Marie, I 
will not. I am going up-stairs to bed, and you 
may tell him so.” 

“ Have you kissed him good-night ?” gurgled 
Aunt Marie, with the hot iron spoon at her 
lips. 

“ I cannot do that.” 

“ Then the old man, poor dear, will not sleep a 
wink.” 

“ Then we shall lie awake together,” said Bel, with 
a relenting sparkle in her eyes. 

“Bel, don’t be stubborn,” pleaded the small 
woman. “ I believe I have burned my tongue. 
He wants some of this chicken soup, and I tasted 
it to see if it had any flavor.” 

“ I am stubborn — I wish to be stubborn.” 

“ Then while you are being stubborn, bring me 
a tea cup.” 

She brought the cup and stood while Aunt 


302 


ISOBEL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


Marie filled it, with no relenting in her flashing 
eyes or hrm lips. 

I will not take it in ; you cannot beguile me.” 
Aunt Marie spoke impatiently: “ Don’t be so 
silly, Del; he is nothing but an old baby.” 

“Then why should I obey an old baby ?” was the 
sharp retort. 

“ Oh, when it comes to that, he’s your grand- 
father, you know.” 

I wish he w r ere not; I wish I had no grand- 
father,” she cried, with a passionate sob. 

“ Now, Bel, you are wicked !” 

“ That reminds me of Madame; I was wicked in 
France, also.” 

“ This is very nice,” said Aunt Marie, tasting the 
broth from the cup, “take it in now while it is hot.” 

“Did you misunderstand me? I said I would 
not.” __ 

I wish your mother were here !” cried Miss 
Devoe. “ Bel, I am out of all manner of patience 
with you. You will never bring him around. I 
knew it would work mischief for that young man 
to come here to-night. I was half-inclined to tell 
him to go back home.” 

“ 1 wi sb you had,” sighed Bel. 

Thump, thump, thump. 


PEREZ'S TALK. 


303 


“ He will wear himself out,” said Marietta, 
crossly. 

“Take it in yourself, Aunt Marie,” not disrespect- 
fully. 

“ He will not take it from me.” 

“ And he certainly will not take it from me,” 
said Bel, with a little laugh. 

“ Good-night, Aunt Marie.” 

Bel darted across the kitchen towards the door 
of the kitchen stairway; Aunt Marie shouted 
after her, and the girl tossed back a tantalizing 
laugh. 

“I didn’t think it of her,” explained Aunt Marie, 
with slow surprise. “ But Uncle Harold is a cau- 
tion when his temper is up.” 

The cane was still thumping when Aunt Marie 
opened the sitting-room door. 

“ Where’s Bel Hope ?” he shouted, with all his 
weakened strength. His breath came short; he 
was leaning forward on the round head of his stout 
cane. 

“Gone up-stairs, Uncle Harold,” replied Mari- 
etta, soothingly, “ girls will get tired and have to 
go to bed early. “ This broth is delicious,” she 
added, placing the teaspoon to his lips, “ it will 
be cold if you do not take it quick.” 


304 


ISO BEV S BETWEEN TIMES . 


Biing her down, he muttered between the tea- 
spoonfuls. 

Uncle Harold, do you want her to run away, 
hke her mother ?” Marietta had debated within 
herself before she had dared. Pushing her hand 

away , he screwed up his eyes and looked into her 
face. 


“ Don,t y° u know that is what I am trying to 
prevent ?” 

“I know that is what you are doing! If you 
make a slave of her she will go. She has her mo- 
ther’s and father’s blood both in her; her eyes 
are gentle but her heart is fierce.” 

“That’s so,” he muttered, uneasily, “and her 
eyes are fierce, sometimes; she isn’t the gentle 
little kitten I took her to be.” 


If you are kind to her she will serve you on her 
knees; but if you are unjust— she will hate you and 
deceive you and disobey you.” 

Would she ? Was she as bad as that ? Aunt 
Marie believed it. But she was so young ! And 
she had so little of what other girls had. 

It isnt in her,” he said, again pushing the 
spoon away. 


“ 14 is in her enough to come out of her,” urged 
Aunt Marie. 


PEREZ'S TALK . 


305 


ik I don’t see what she has got to thwart me for !” 
he said, chokingly, big tears rolling down his 
cheeks, “ my wife was not any comfort to me with 
her will and her temper, and Hope ran away from 
me, and her daughter has come back to hold a lash 
over my head. I wish I was in my grave.” 

“ Do not make other people wish it, too,” ad- 
vised Marietta, sternly. “ Uncle Harold, if you 
will be reasonable you will make us love you, and 
if you will be tyrannical — ” 

“I aint tyrannical,” he whimpered; “ now you 
have turned against me.” 

By way of reply she held the cup to his lips un- 
til he had drained it. 

“ Sam will be up soon to put you to bed. Uncle 
Harold, I am not a Christian myself, but I wish 
with all my heart you were. Christians are com- 
fortable to live with. Prosper Dekker says when a 
man is a Christian his dog knows it.” 

“I am a sight better than some Christians,” 
he answered, fretfully. “I say my prayers every 
night, and I never wronged my neighbor or de- 
frauded a man that worked for me, and you know 
it. The Lord is merciful.” 

“ He is merciful to sinners,” with sharp readi- 
ness, “ but you are not a sinner.” 

20 


306 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ If that fellow hadn’t come here with his talk 
it would all be well enough,” he muttered, with 
some contrition. “ Bead to me, eh ! And sit and 
look at her.” 

After Sam Watts, the workman who lived in Mr. 
Devoe s small house two fields distant from the 
barn, had come in to help the old man into his bed- 
room, and had tucked him in with his usual night 
parting: “Hope you’ll sleep well, sir,” Marietta 
went into the room to see if Bel’s absence had left 
anything undone. 

“Marietta,” popping up his white head, “tell 
her good-night, and say, I’ve compromised; if Mr. 
Dekker will come over here to read his jabbering 
French, the lessons may go on ! But she shan’t be 
out of my sight.” 

Two hours after, as he dozed fitfully, a light 
step hesitated in the doorway between the sit- 
ting room and grandfather’s sleeping-room, and 
then the step went on more surely and paused 
at the bedside; he was asleep, she would not 
awaken him; two soft warm lips touched his 
forehead once, and then again ; the old man 
stirred, murmuring in his sleep: “Good-night, 
Bel Hope.” 

And then she went back to the sitting-room 


PEREZ'S TALK. 


307 


fire and knelt down at her grandfathers chair 
and promised herself again, as in that remem- 
bered midnight at Shields, that she would give 
her life to him for her mother’s sake; and she 
would always tell him the truth if it choked her 
to death. 


XX. 


SOMEBODY. 

“Are you a Christian?” 

It was a question that Miss Dekker was unac- 
customed to ask, but she felt constrained to prove 
to the girl that she was hypocritical, and not as 
sweet as she made people believe she was. What 
right had Prosper to say she was a Christian, when 
she had not even been baptized ? 

“I do not know,” answered Isobel, wonder- 
ingly. 

“ Are you thinking about it?” persisted Miss 
Jue. 

Miss Jue stood on the walk outside the fence. 
Isobel had been weeding grandfather’s nasturtiums, 
when Miss Jue called to her; she sprang up from 
her knees and ran to her. Grandfather was in 
his chair on the piazza, and it was almost time for 
him to be taken into the house. 

“ About myself being a Christian ?” she inquired, 
(308) 


SOMEBODY. 


309 


in a tone slightly puzzled. “ I do not think I ever 
did." 

And suppose she had, why should Miss Jue 
question her? 

“ How old are you ?” asked the lady, loosening 
her sun-bonnet strings. 

“ Twenty-one. I shall be twenty-one to-mor- 
row.” 

“ Don’t you think it is time for you to think 
about it ?" 

Whenever Miss Jue intended to be strong, she 
was decidedly grim. The tone might have indica- 
ted to one not understanding the words, that the 
question was : “ Don’t you think it is time for you 

to think about being hanged ?’’ 

“ I do not know," said Bel, after a most uncom- 
fortable pause. 

“ It is time you did know. Do you know what 
it is to be a Christian ?" The word “ Christian,” 
had no sound of Christ in it from her lips. 

“ Grandfather says he is not one. I know Mr. 
Prosper Dekker is,” evaded the girl. 

“ What do you think it is ?” 

“ Pardon me. I said I had not thought,” said 
Bel, with her usual refined courtesy. 

u What a heathen you are !” exclaimed Miss Jue, 


310 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


impatiently. “ That French school did it. But 
you have been in this country long enough to 
learn better.” 

“ What did the French school do ?” inquired Bel, 
not saucily, but with pointed persistency. 

“ Don’t you care? 1 cried Miss Jue, her voice 
rising with its shrillest tones. 

“ About what ?” asked Bel, simply, rubbing the 
mould off her fore-finger ; she was aware that she 
meant to be provoking. 

“You are exasperating; you are pretending not 
to understand,” cried the wrathful questioner. 

“ Mamma calls me stupid, sometimes,” said Bel, 
dropping her eyes to hide the smile in them. 

‘ ‘ I want to know whether you care whether you 
are a Christian or not.” 

“ I told you I had not thought about myself.” 

“Then you are a real heathen. You have heard 
Prosper preach, too; and heard him talk.” 

“ He did not ask me about myself; he talked to 
me about — ” 

“Well, about what? ” 

“ About the Lord and his life on earth.” The an- 
swer was not ready, but it came at last, and sweetly. 

“ Didn’t that make you think about yourself, 
pray?” 


SOMEBODY. 


311 


“ No, madame, it made me think about Him.” 

“ You know he wants you to repent of your hard 
heart.” 

“ He knows I do,” said Isobel; “ he knows I am 
very sorry when I do wrong — and I do something 
wrong every day.” Isobel was in earnest now. 

“What have you done to-day?” 

“ I was tempted to deceive grandpapa when he 
asked me how long I was in your garden.” 

Deceit was becoming hateful to her; she did 
not question why; she knew no more of her own 
growth than the bud that is brought into a per- 
fect flower. 

“ Did you tell him a lie ?” 

“ I said I did not know — but I did know that it 
was longer than he thought; he thought I went 
over to see Mary Wells, about the ironing, but 
I did not go. And I did not tell him I did not 
go; mamma went, that I might stay the longer 
among your flowers.” 

“ That was very deceitful in both of you, and 
my innocent flowers were the innocent cause.” 

“No, I was the cause: I might have told the 
truth. And 1 hid the book Mr. Perez brought 
me last night, and did not dare tell him 1 saw Mr. 
Perez.” 


312 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


u I should think your grandfather would be pro- 
voked.” 

“ He is,” said Bel, remorsefully. 

“ Then why do you do such things?” 

“ Because I am bad, I suppose.” 

“ Do you deceive him every day ?” continued her 
catechist. 

“ Speak not so loud, please. He is watching us.” 

“That is more of your deceit.” 

If Isobel had been awkward and plain, with no 
pretty ways and no possible happy future, Miss 
Dekker would have been very kind to her. But 
what right had the girl to what she was denied ? 

“ I think every night that I will not deceive him 
to-morrow.” 

“And you do ?” sharply. 

“ Something happens, and I am not brave, and I 
hide it, or evade his questions.” 

“ He will learn that you are not to be trusted. 
Perez loves truthfulness above all things.” 

The clear eyes were shadowed; and she was not 
true ! And he would know it ! 

“ I do not like to rebel against grandpapa.” 

“It is sinful to rebel, and sinful to deceive. ’ 

“ Yes,” assented Bel, “ I am sinful.” 

“ No wonder you are not a Christian, with these 


SOMEBODY. 


313 


things hindering you P cried Miss Jue, indig- 
nantly. 

“ I only think about myself when I am wrong, 
and then I ask forgiveness ; last night I wept over 
something 1 had said to grandpapa,” with uncon- 
scious self-defence. 

“You should think about yourself,” counselled 
Miss Jue. “ Who will think about you if you do 
not think about yourself?” 

“I forget myself when I read about the dear 
Lord, or think of him.” The whispered w r ords 
came with uneasy utterance ; it was hard to speak 
her precious thoughts to Miss Jue. 

“ What do you think of him ?” asked Miss Jue, 
somewhat mollified. 

“ I think that he took my sins away on his cross, 
and that he will give me a new heart — and I think 
he has — a little,” Bel said, wistfully, after another 
pause. 

“ A little ! I should think so. Rebelling, and 
deceiving.” 

The cane was thumping the floor of the piazza; 
Bel turned and waved her hand. 

“ I suppose I should be weeding; he likes to see 
me at work,” she said, in a relieved tone, coming 
back to words easily spoken. 


314 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ You are never idle, any way,” conceded Miss 
Jue. 

“Grandpapa says I am when I read French,” 
said Bel, smiling; “he hates my French books and 
ways.” 

“Good-bye; he will be thumping again; I should 
think you would wish that cane in Jericho,” said 
Miss Jue, unguardedly. 

“ I do feel tempted to burn it;” said Bel, laugh- 
ingly, at the arched eyebrow and emphatic gesture. 

“ Prosper is coming home to-night with Perez. 
Vacation begins to-morrow; we are going to the 
sea-shore for the whole month. Perez has given 
up his plan of going abroad to study.” 

“ I am sighing for the sea,” sighed Bel. “ I tell 
grandpapa it would make him well.” 

“Nothing will make him well; I should think 
the girl would see it,” muttered Miss Jue, stepping 
down the wooden steps in the green bank. The 
broad hat with its floating blue ribbons answered 
grandfathers call; she had purchased it, as well as 
the blue and white gingham she wore, w r ith her 
own earnings; every Saturday morning Perez ser- 
iously laid the one dollar bill in her hand, and she 
as seriously said: “Thank you.” 

Last Saturday morning, for the first time, she 


SOMEBODY, 


315 


had looked disturbed ; they were simply reading 
together ; it was her pleasure as well as his — what 
right had she to take the money as though she 
earned it ? Had she ever earned it ? Was it not 
his stratagem to help her because she had no 
money of her own? With burning cheeks she 
resolved to refuse the dollar next week ; she would 
return it and ask him to come for the pleasure to 
herself ! But could she do that ? What would he 
think of her ? Must she say that she could give 
him no more “ lessons ? ” And she looked forward 
to them all the week ! How stupid she had been ! 
She was always stupid ; Miss J ue had a right to be 
indignant. But then she did not think of herself, 
and every day she thought more about the Lord, 
and his Father, and what he did when he was on 
earth. In her simple life she had so few new 
things to think about, she had so few girlish in- 
terests. Her growth in the truest knowledge 
might have been hindered, had her life been less 
sheltered from the world. Perez Dekker said to 
himself that there was time for the other things 
by-and-by ; she was a bit of nature growing in the 
sunshine of grace. She had read her new English 
Bible through. 

It was nearly sunset, and grandfather had been 


316 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


assisted back to his chair in the bay window, from 
which he could watch the changes in the west; his 
faithful nurse sat beside him, her broad hat in her 
lap, longing with all her heart for a walk towards 
the sunset; a walk like one of the long walks she 
used to take out into the country with Lizette. 

Lizette was married ! How queer ! Would she 
ever be married, or must she stay on endlessly 
with grandpapa ? And Janet Dermot was engaged. 
Things were happening to some girls; if the time 
should pass for things to happen to her, would 
they never happen ? 

44 Bel Hope, what are you thinking about ? ” 

“ Nothing,” answered confused Bel Hope. 

44 Nothing makes you smile.” 

“ Lizette is married; I was thinking of her.” 

“ Do you want to go back to France ? ” 

“0 yes— 0 yes, indeed!” catching her breath. 
“ I love my beautiful France, I dreamed last night 
I was walking along the Seine.” 

44 What about your beautiful America ? ” 

44 It is pretty — here,” she admitted, “but I do not 
have the river and the mountains.” 

44 It is good enough for me.” 

The old man gazed out toward the west. Bel 
played with her hat ribbons, checking a sigh; the 


SOMEBODY. 


317 


tea bell rang and she arose to bring in her grand- 
father’s tea. 

She might not go back to France, and she might 
not go to the sea-shore, and she must not permit 
the French lessons to go on, and she must live on 
endlessly with grandpapa. Twenty-one to-mor- 
row ! She was almost old. Her mother died before 
she was twenty-one. 

At the tea-table Miss Devoe sat down the teapot 
and looked meditative; she had been meditative 
all day. 

“ Isobel,” she said, impressively, “Isobel Kellin- 
ger ?” 

The tea-table for three was spread in the kitchen. 
The kitchen stove was in the shed; the kitchen 
was as cool and fresh as the sitting-room; Mrs. 
Kellinger had arranged the blackberry blossoms 
for the table ; she said her life consisted in giving 
“finishing touches.” 

“Well,” replied Mrs. Kellinger. ‘Well, Mari- 
etta Devoe.” 

The younger Isobel had come to be Bel to all of 
them ; but she would not write herself “ Bel.” Mr. 
Perez had said it was not as pretty as Isobel. He 
always called her Isobel. 

“ When the farm needs an extra hand he boards 


3] 8 ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 

with Mary Wells,” declared Marietta, in the tone 
of one announcing a discovery. 

“ Why yes !” answered the surprised listener. 

“ Mary washes and irons, scrubs and churns for 
us,” in the same tone. 

“Are you just awake to it?” laughed Mrs. Kel- 
linger. u Bel, I wish you had gone on that black- 
berry tramp with me; I never saw them so thick.” 

I am just awake to the importance of it. What 
do I do that you could not do ?” demanded Mari- 
etta. 

“ Get up and get breakfast,” said Mrs. Kellinger, 
with another laugh. 

Marietta said her sister’s laugh had come back 
with her lost color; she was subdued, but that was 
becoming. 

“ There is no hurry about that. In winter Sam 
brings in coal and wood; the housekeeper here 
need not have such a very hard time,” remarked 
the housekeeper. 

“Marietta !” dropping the blackberry out of her 
up-lifted spoon, “what are you trying to make 
plain to me ?” 

“ That is what puzzles me, mamma,” said Bel. 

“It has been made plain to me, that it is time 
for me to move on. How many years have I 


SOMEBODY. 


319 


been here ? I was reckoning them up in the 
night. I came the year after you were married. 
I came to visit, and I have visited to my heart’s 
content. I never could stay where another could 
stay, and do as well. I must move on to another 
neglected spot. This kitchen is the place for you. 
And then you would have no board to pay !” 

“ Marietta, you are a genius ! But where would 
you go?” 

“ Where the way is opened !” said Marietta, 
briskly. u I did not know T the way was opened 
here when I came. I have five hundred dollars 
in the bank. Perhaps I shall take a vacation,” 
she added, with a happy laugh. It would be her 
first vacation for many years. She said she had 
vacation days as she went along. 

“ I should think you ivould be glad to go,” said 
Bel, sympathetically. “ I would fly away if I 
could.” 

“ And leave me ! ” cried her mother, in pretended 
alarm. 

u No, mamma, darling; not even to fly over the 
sea to France.” 

“But, Marietta, are you in solemn earnest?” 
questioned Marietta’s sister, still unmindful of her 
blackberry. 


320 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ I have been in solemn earnest for two months. 
That is why I have coaxed you into the kitchen.” 

“ Oh, I don’t mind the kitchen. I like the 
change of it, and I am glad to save the money.” 

“ What don’t you like, then ?” 

“ Missing you! And having the disgrace of you 
working somewhere !” 

“ I must work somewhere. I must go where I 
can be somebody, don’t you see ? I am not of any 
consequence in this house.” 

“Then I would become somebody here,” said 
Mrs. Kellinger. 

“ And Bel is a most important somebody now,” 
said Aunt Marie. “The greatest somebody of us 
all.” 

Bel brightened. Why, so she was ! To grand- 
papa ! But not to anybody else. 

To whom else did she wish to be somebody ? 

It was a foolish question to ask, because she 
knew the answer; she had learned the answer by 
heart all these Saturday mornings when she and 
Mr. Perez had read French together in the sitting- 
room, with grandpapa looking on and listening, or 
on the piazza, both of them near grandpapa’s 
chair, often with their heads bent over the same 
book ; when either of them laughed or their tones 


SOMEBODY. 


321 


became more animated, the teacher would bid her 
pupil translate, and then the old man would be- 
come interested ; in this way Mr. Devoe had learn- 
ed the contents of several French books, and had 
been forced to acknowledge that the foreigners 
had common sense on their side. He was delight- 
ed with Pascal ; and often asked for one of his 
“Thoughts” to be read again and again. 

Isobel went up to her chamber that Saturday 
night with the door of her own heart opened so 
wide to her clear-eyed vision that she beheld with 
confusion and shamefacedness the one enthroned 
within it; the one to whom she gave impassioned, 
girlish homage, the one she “belonged to,” in right 
of it, more than she belonged to grandpapa. He 
was not lifted above other men like Prosper Dekker, 
he was as natural as she was; she saw his faults as 
she saw her own, but she loved his weaknesses, 
and she hated her own; she gave his weaknesses 
their own hard names; jealousy, a quick suspicion 
of evil in others, a grasping of good things for 
himself, an unrelenting spirit to one who wronged 
him ; this was all true and apparent every day of 
his life; but he was so much beside; so refined in 
every word and motion with a grace and courtesy 

of manner that won you without the aid of his 
21 


322 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


bright, varied and easy conversation. Mr. Pros- 
per had said that he was pure-hearted and pure- 
minded, and as faithful as the sun. “ You may 
count on Perez, he’s always there.” He had never 
failed her, in every thing he had been beyond her 
expectations; his faults had never given her one 
unpleasant touch ; he was the other and stronger 
side of herself ; where he was weak, she was 
weaker. 

Did any one know ? Had any one seen ? She 
avoided the speaking of his name now-a-days, it 
did not come easily; to herself she said, “ Perez,” 
and there was no word in French or English like 
it. He was all the more to her because at first he 
had been so little; her dislike had gradually worn 
away and then slowly came the appreciation of his 
best self; and now the surprise and delight of find- 
ing that he was not only some one to admire afar 
off, but to love near by ; she was so happy that it 
hurt 

After the month away — (and what would she do 
in that month ?) he would have a month at home, 
with her, not for walks or drives, because grand- 
papa could not spare her, but for talks, and books, 
and music; and while he was away she would 
write every day in the handsome blank book he 


SOMEBODY. 


323 


had given her, with its title in his penmanship on 
the fly leaf: a Natural History of Half an Acre.” 
It was his fun that grandpapa allowed her half an 
acre of liberty. He told her that Kuskin would fill 
that book a dozen times out of her half acre. The 
first date was in January. The pages would have 
continued very blank but for an occasional hint 
from Mr. Perez or grandfather. 

That evening she had read it aloud to grand- 
father. She took it up again after she went up- 
stairs, to look through it ; it was like the touch of 
Perez Dekker’s hand. It was very childishly put; 
Perez had smiled over it. 

“Squirrels rob bee-hives, and do not save the 
honey for winter. They do not learn to be wise. 

“The witch-hazel has yellow blossoms and is not 
afraid of the cold and snow. 

“ Grandpapa says people in old times used bent 
twigs of witch-hazel to find lost things; but had 
to have a 4 gift ’ to find them. He had not the gift ; 
he says he had the gift of not losing his things. 

“Mr. Perez found a star chick-weed for me. The 
wind swept the fallen, dead leaves away, and he 
found it. 

“Sam Watts found a catkin for me; it was yel- 
low. Because I liked it Mr. Perez brought me 


324 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


some with some roses. Grandpapa found a dan- 
delion in bloom, once in the winter, but only once ; 
and a long time ago. 

“ Mr. Prosper came to go skating with Mr. 
Perez, by moonlight, but they did not bring me 
any Natural History; they saw a rabbit. Mamma 
went because she knows how to skate; and Miss 
Jue went for fun. 

44 Mr. Perez says the crows know when the ice 
will bear them. I wish the ice would bear me. I 
would like to be a bird, even a crow, if I might go 
on the ice. But grandpapa is afraid ; he says he is 
sure 1 would get lost if I went away from my half 
acre. He has seen cedar birds in winter. I wish 
they would come here. 

44 There is a river six miles away, and I see it 
from the hill ; or I did see it one afternoon, when 
grandpapa was asleep and mamma and Mr. Pros- 
per took me to the hill. 

44 The February sun rises more to the east. If it 
were not for the sun-risings I should forget where 
the east is. Grandpapa says he has seen the sun 
rise for half a century, and the sun would miss him 
if he were not looking out. 

44 Mr. Perez brought me blood-root to-day; it has 
a single white flower. I put it in a glass of water, 


SOMEBODY ; 


325 


but he took it out, and put it in my hair. (I wear 
my hair 4 up ’ now, except in the mornings. Mr. 
Perez said I might put this in, for it belonged to 
the Natural History of Girls. ) 

44 Nest-building is going busily on. I found two 
at the foot of the garden, and Mr. Perez told me 
about others. Grandpapa likes to hear about Nat- 
ural History. Grandpapa says birds sometimes 
quarrel in nest-building time ; and it has happened 
that a bird has left its mate. I thought birds were 
always loving. 

“Mr. Perez put a small bit of mirror near a nest 
where the birds could see the reflection of them- 
selves. Grandpapa said he was tempted to go out 
and see what they would do. The sparrows were 
afraid and did not try to fight the intruders off. 

“ Mr. Perez brought me to-day a splendid book 
about birds to read to grandpapa. Grandpapa’s 
name was written in it. 

“ Mr. Perez knows somebody who knows about 
a garden planted over one hundred years ago, and 
in which nothing has been done for many years; 
there is a fence and a hedge, and the posts are 
locusts. I must remember that locust wood is dur- 
able. 

44 Mr. Perez says this is not about my own half 


326 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


acre. He says I must write fauna and flora; and 
every day, I must find something in my own sky, 
and earth, and water. (The water is the tiniest 
pool, where the chickens come to drink.) 

“ I found wild strawberries to-day, and grand- 
papa had them with cream and sugar. 

“ Mr. Perez brought me a load of ferns; a whole 
armful; I never saw such tall ones. We put them 
in the fire-place. (Grandpapa has a stove in his 
room, so the stove is taken down in the sitting- 
room. This is a Natural History of Grandpapas.) 

“ Grandpapa has a toad. It lives near the shed 
door. He let me follow it yesterday, and I fol- 
lowed it to some tall weeds. Every night he says 
it goes to some damp place. I was awake last 
night, for grandpapa was restless and wanted to 
talk about 4 old times,’ and we heard the toads sing 
till past midnight. 

“ Mr. Perez has told me about Thoreau ; he says 
he never killed one living thing to study it. 

(Mr. Perez laughed and said: “ Did he kill one 
dead thing ?”) 

With a happy laugh she shut the book. She 
would write every day while he was gone, to sur- 
prise him ! 

Was it deceitful not to read it all to grandpapa? 


SOMEBODY. 


327 


She had written “Mr. Perez ” so often; so foolishly 
often. 

But Mr. Perez did bring the specimens, and must 
she not be a faithful chronicler and give her au- 
thority ? 

Mr. Perez read everything ; he opened even a new 
book with the air of one who knew all about it. 
Did he despise her because she knew so little ? 
Would he love somebody wise ? He said a girl he 
knew, had read the Gospel of John in Greek; and 
another had gone to Italy to study painting; and 
still another was going to Italy, to perfect herself 
in music; and all she knew was French, and how to 
take care of grandpapa. 

“ Wise men often choose silly wives/’ Miss Jue 
had told her that day; and she was ashamed of 
herself, because she was so glad to believe it true, 
and because she liked Miss Jue for saying it. 

The next day Mr. Prosper Dekker preached for 
a friend in the church that Mrs. Kellinger and her 
sister attended. Marietta drove her sister in the 
old-fashioned chaise; Bel stood at the gate and 
watched them as they drove away; she stood long 
enough to catch a glimpse of the waiting party on 
the piazza opposite. A week ago she would have 
stayed for the bow and the lighted eyes that would 


328 


IS OB EES BETWEEN TIMES , 


greet her, as Mr. Perez’s carriage passed through 
the entrance; but she hurried in this morning, 
conscious and ashamed, before Miss Jue had been 
assisted to the back seat. Mr. Perez sat in front 
alone. She watched through the vine-shaded end 
of the piazza ; he was watching also, and she went 
in more ashamed and conscious than before. 

“Did you want to hear Prosper Dekker preach, 
Bel Hope ?” grandfather inquired. 

“Yes, grandpapa.'’ 

“ He will come in and preach to us to-night.’ 7 

“ It is not like — it is not church.” 

“ I have never been to church — not often — and I 
have lived through it; I guess you will.” 

“Why did you not go ?” 

“ Because — oh, I had enough to do at home ; I 
never let a Sabbath day pass without reading my 
Bible.” 

Isobel hesitated; would she dare say it now, 
when he was too old and ill to go to church?” 

“ Speak out. What are you thinking ?” 

“ Only something Mr. Prosper said — ” 

“ About going to church ? He believes in it; it 
is his business.” 

“ More than mine ?” she insisted. 

“Yes, he goes to preach.” 


SOMEBODY ; 


329 


“ He does not go to preach to empty seats.” 

“ No, and he never will. He may be sharp, 
and speak truth, but he will never be a great 
preacher.” 

“ He does not think about that.” 

“ How do you know, chick ?” 

“ Because he thinks only of what he has to say. 
Mr. Perez says his power lies in forgetting him- 
self; he throws himself into the truth.” 

“The truth?” questioned the old man, testily; 
“ now tell me what you were thinking.” 

She did not speak at once; she had forgotten his 
very words. 

“ I heard him say to Mr. Perez that he would 
want a friend some day, in the judgment day, 
when all his life would be revealed, and that there 
was but one way to get the only Friend that would 
do him any good.” 

u What way is that ?” 

“ He read it to him ; shall I read it to you ?” 

“ Yes, I don’t care.” 

She had slipped her French Testament into her 
pocket, hoping to go out under the trees and find 
her sermon ; it was a long time before she found 
the words; she had no idea whether they were 
written in Matthew or in Revelation. 


330 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


Before she could finish the words he took them 
up and repeated them ; he had learned them when 
he was ten years old. 

“ Whosoever, therefore, shall confess me before 
men, him will I confess also before my Father 
w T hich is in Heaven. But whosoever shall deny 
me before men, him will I also deny before my 
Father which is in Heaven.” 

With both arms about his neck and pressing her 
head against his breast, she said : “ Grandpapa, I 
want you to have some one on your side when that 
day comes.” 


XXI. 


DISCONTENTED. 

That same Sunday afternoon, while Bel was read- 
ing the Bible to her grandfather (he has asked her 
to begin the first Gospel) her mother was sitting 
in a rustic chair at the foot of the lawn with several 
religious papers in her lap; Miss Jue had sent 
them over by Anastasia; Miss Jue was fond of the 
religious weeklies. 

Mrs. Kellinger was not reading, however ; she 
was thinking of the morning’s sermon ; the text 
was the words Isobel had found for her grand- 
father. 

The latch of the gate clicked, she nervously 
seized the topmost paper and unfolded it ; was 
Prosper Dekker coming because she had resolved 
to think of anything and everything rather than 
of him ? Must her quiet be disturbed? Her life 
was flowing on smoothly ; she was seeking to for- 
get the reckless excitement of her twenty years of 

( 331 ) 


332 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


married life, “ married misery/’ she had said to 
Marietta, and to be Marietta’s good sister and 
Bel’s good mother; this young man, so many years 
younger, was dangerous to her peace of mind ; she 
could not love his life and his influence over her- 
self, without being drawn to him and loving him ! 
It was not in her nature, even at her two-score 
years of age; was the Lord he served, displeased 
to have it so ? Was the Lord she was trying 
with all her heart to serve, displeased to have 
it so? 

He was in the world, and in the world she 
was in herself ; and with this young man she was 
thrown into familiar companionship; she was Bel’s 
mother, she was John Kellinger’s widow ; she would 
break away from this folly — but how weak she 
was ! All the weaker because his help was brought 
to the great need of her weaker self. Did not 
human hearts ever grow old? Oh, that her hair 
were white and her heart shut up to holy iuflu- 
ences; oh, that her natural self were utterly de- 
stroyed ! Why must he come and talk to her ? 
Did she seem so old to him that he need not fear 
making her care, as a girl of twenty might natu- 
rally and righteously care ? 

“ Mrs. Kellinger !” 


DISCONTENTED . 


333 


She lifted her eyes slowly. “You are not 
well,” he said, hastily, and with startled solici- 
tude. 

“ Yes, I am; I am only wicked; and it is time I 
was used to that.” 

“ What is troubling you this afternoon ?” 

Like a boy he threw himself down upon the 
grass; how boyish he was in many things ! He 
was two or three years younger than his cousin 
Perez. 

“ I was wishing,” rubbing her forehead with her 
fingers, “that there was a place for me. If my 
husband had lived, and I had been changed to love 
him better, I should like to have been a good wife 
to him. I have lost something because he has not 
lived.” 

Her listener seemed to have nothing to say. 

“ St. Paul found something for widows to do,” 
he replied, after a silence, during which she had 
read three endless paragraphs. 

“ Did he ? Can you tell me ?” with quick impa- 
tience. 

“ I would rather you would read it yourself.” 

“ Very likely I should not understand.” 

“ He wrote to Timothy about them. Timothy 
was young and needed Paul’s common sense and 


334 


I SOB EDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


spirituality to teach him. He wrote to Timothy 
how women should array themselves.” 

“ Did he ? Are women told that in the Bible ? 
I have read the Gospels.” 

“ He bids them dress in modest apparel.” 

“ As modest as mine ?” she said, looking down 
at her black dress and speaking seriously. 

“ He was speaking to the women who were 
‘professing godliness.’” 

“ And like Timothy, you come and tell me what 
Paul said.” 

“ He bade Timothy rebuke the elder women as 
mothers, the younger as sisters.” 

“ Might he not marry ? Did Paul forbid 
that ?” 

“I think he preferred that Timothy should be as 
himself, so wholly given up to the work in which 
he gloried that his heart could not open to earthly 
relationships.” 

“ That was hard,” with slightest sarcasm. 

“Not for Paul, and perhaps not for young Tim- 
othy ; the younger women were to be to him as sis- 
ters.” 

Mrs. Kellinger’s motion tore the edge of the paper 
in her hand. 

“ There was a kind of ecclesiastical order of wid- 


DISCONTENTED. 


335 


owhood, and none might be enrolled less than 
sixty years of age.” 

“What about those who were nearer forty?” 
with an uncomfortable laugh. 

“ Forty was the age fixed at the Council of 
Chalcedon for an order of deaconesses ; they were 
a band of widows set apart for the service of the 
Church. Dorcas is supposed to be one. Do you 
know about Dorcas ?” 

“ My mother used to belong to a sewing society 
called a Dorcas Society,” in an amused tone. 

“You will read about Dorcas in Acts. I would 
read Acts, if I were you.” 

“ What did Dorcas do ?” 

“ What the younger widows can do now. She 
may not have had children to train, and so she 
gave herself to the Church.” 

“ I do not wish to become a nun,” with a sharp 
and hurt inflection. 

“ Dorcas was not a nun ; she was not shut up in 
a cloister, she was out in the world among the 
women and children who needed womanly minis- 
trations.” 

“ But I am not fitted for anything.” 

“ You are very teachable.” 

“ Am I ? I thought I was not.” 


336 


IS OB EL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ You have work here— you might have, if you 
could relieve Miss Bel.” 

“ With her grandfather ! He will not have me 
when Bel is within calling distance. He has not 
forgiven me — and I should not think he would. 
He wonders that I can be content with my quiet 
life here.” 

“ I wonder somewhat, also.” 

“Bel is here, that is one reason; and I hate 
my vanity and lightness, that is another, and 
I have nowhere else to go, which may be 
more to the purpose. My mourning is sorrow 
for my self more than regret for my husband 

that sounds heartless, but it is too true. 

Bel knows it ; we did not either of us love 
him.” 

“ I am very sorry for you.” 

“I would rather you would tell me what to do,” 
she returned, impatiently. 

“Study what Paul says.” 

“ I cannot understand the Bible alone.” 

“As the Ethiopian said: ‘How can I, unless 
some man guide me ?’ ” 

“ Some women find plenty to do,” she said, dis- 
contentedly. 

“Your sister, for example.” 


DISCONTENTED. 


337 


c< She is looking for something new ; she wants 
me to take her place here.” 

44 The best thing you can do,” he replied, heartily. 
44 I think Paul would approve that. He encour- 
aged women to be 4 keepers at home.’ ” 

44 Then you don’t believe in Women’s Rights?” 

4< Her best right is to be at home and to help 
women to make happy homes. Women had a 
great deal to do in Paul’s life : 1 suspect he had a 
good time in Lydia’s house.” 

She curled the edges of the paper; he looked up 
at her and smiled. 

44 1 would like to know about the women Paul 
knew: Tryphena and Tryphosa, and Phebe and 
Persis and Julia, the sister of Nereus, and Priscilla, 
and the beloved Persis and the mother of Rufus.” 

44 They were not women like me; they were 
holy,” in her childish tone of humility. 

44 Do you mean that they had never sinned ?” 

44 1 do not believe they had been as vain and 
selfish as I am now — and I have been worse than 
I am now.” 

44 Do you mean that a woman as sinful as you 
has never been forgiven ?” 

44 No; I know better. But Paul never would 

have spoken of me.” 

22 


338 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“I hope he would; I hope you would have taken 
him into your house — as you do me.” 

“I should have been afraid; I am afraid of good 
people. Mr. Dekker, you seem to find everything 
in the Bible.” 

“Ono; I haven’t found out if Paul wore spec- 
tacles, like me.” 

“ People didn’t wear spectacles in those days.” 

“ Then you have discovered something about 
him that isn’t in the Bible.” 

“ I am discontented and wilful to-day ; I am nei- 
ther old nor young; I have lost the past and have 
not found any future.” 

“Wliat about the present? That is enough for 
anybody that has but one heart and one mind and 
one soul.” 

“I told you about the present; I am discon- 
tented.” 

“ I should be sorry if you were satisfied.” 

“ With myself ?” 

“ With your life! It is not enough that a wo- 
man makes herself look pretty, and that she is 
always agreeable, and that she find employment 
for her fingers ; her heart should be large enough 
to feel with the large movements of the world, and 
her intellect should take in the new things in 


DISCONTENTED. 


339 


science, and her soul should live in an atmosphere 
of ever-growing spirituality.” 

“ Oh, dear me !” cried Mrs. Kellinger, comi- 
cally, “ how many women do you know like 

that r 

“ I know the beginning of more than one.” 

“ Girls in schools and professional women.” 

“ That is the kind of woman Perez is making of 
your daughter.” 

“Bel ! Nonsense !” 

“ Do you not see that she grows ?” 

“ Sweeter every day, yes.” 

“ And you do not notice the five cities and the 
natural history ?” he said, smilingly. 

“ I know Pome is* the city now; and she learns 
something every day.” 

“ She is a real student,” he returned, smiling at 
some recollection of her. 

“ I could not be a student.” 

“I do not know that Dorcas was, or Julia, or 
Persis — except students of the finest literature in 
the world.” 

Gathering the papers that were slipping from 
her lap, she arose; he immediately sprang up. 

“ Must you go in ? Then I must go ; thank you 
for listening to me.” 


340 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“Did Timothy do nothing beside ‘rebuke?’” 
she asked, stooping to pick up a fallen paper. 

“ Timothy had a great deal to do besides,” he 
answered, seriously. 

“ I find Paul’s letters to him an endless study; I 
read them as if written to me.” 

“ But these times are so different,” she urged. 

“ Not in essentials ; there is the same work to do, 
and it must be done in the same spirit. Paul 
warns Timothy, his 4 own son in the faith,’ not to 
let any man despise his youth.” 

“ Mr. Dekker, how old are you ?” 

She was moving at his side towards the house. 

“Younger than I appear; I always seemed more 
mature than I had a natural right to be. I have 
made haste fast, while Prosper, wise boy, has 
made haste slowly. I am twenty-eight.” 

Her attention was given to the papers again; 
“ the elder women as mothers,” had he not 
said so? She was fourteen years his senior in 
years; in sad and worldly experience, how many 
more ? 

“And despite his youth,” Prosper continued, 
“ Paul told him to be an example of the believers in 
word, in conversation, in charity, in spirit, in faith, 
in purity ; and to give attendance to reading, to ex- 


DISCONTENTED . 


341 


hortation, to doctrine; not only to meditate, but to 
give himself ivholly to them.” 

“The Church needed that then ?” she said, jeal- 
ously. 

“ And not now ? I fear you do not study the 
state of the Church; she needs a thousand Tim- 
othys to-day.” Bel’s white dress had appeared in 
the doorway; she beckoned to her mother’s com- 
panion as he lifted his hat to her, and then turned 
into the path that led to the gate. 

“ Grandpapa is nervous to-day; it is one of his 
hard days. I think, if you have time — ” 

“ Would he care to see me ? I’ll gladly sit with 
him awhile.” 


XXII. 


grandfather’s difficulties. 

The old man’s hand was cordially extended as 
the young preacher entered with Bel; like Mrs. 
Kellinger, he felt “ safe ” with Prosper Dekker. 

Mrs. Kellinger and her bundle of papers passed 
up the stairway ; she dropped the papers upon the 
bed and sank down upon the carpet, burying 
her face in her hands at the bedside. 

Would God be on her side if she prayed to him ? 
Would he make her young again; give her youth 
and its opportunities back to her ? Was there 
something to do in her widowhood; the saddest, 
most desolate widowhood of all widowhoods, for 
there was no married happiness to soften and 
brighten it. 

Down-stairs, Prosper Dekker, who did not guess 
(or did he ?) the hold he had taken upon her sym- 
pathetic, impulsive nature, was sitting beside the 
old man’s chair, clasping one of the veined, limp 

hands in his own. 

( 342 ) 


GRANDFATHER' S DIFFICULTIES. 


343 


Bel would have taken her book and gone away, 
but grandfather detained her by a look; she was 
very shyly glad; for would not this be something 
like sitting in church and listening ? 

“ Mr. Dekker, I have my difficulties/' grand- 
father impressively began. 

“ The Hill Difficulty is a place we all have to 
climb,” said the young man. 

“ Sometimes I think I am like a heathen, only 
worse; I have been within sound of the Gospel 
bell all my days, and have not gone to church. I 
wonder what their difficulties are ?” 

“ I think I can tell you something about a Mon- 
gol’s difficulties; I have recently become interested 
in that part of the world.” 

Bel remembered the story of the old Abbe. Mr. 
Dekker was interested in every part of the world. 

“The Mongols live — where ?” asked the old 
man. “I used to know. Asia?” 

“ Siberia is on the north of them and China on 
the south ; they are a people with a great many 
thoughts.” 

“That is like me,” nodded grandfather. “I have 
time for thoughts, too many of them. If it were 
not for Bel Hope here, I should die with think- 
ing.” 


344 


IS OB EL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


Bel Hope laughed; she had not known that to 
keep him from thinking was a part of her mission. 

“ One of the Mongol’s greatest difficulties is 
that he feels the Gospel to be superfluous ; you are 
to tell me when you are like a Mongol, you know.” 

“I used to think so, when I prided myself upon 
being a moral man ; somehow I don’t feel as 
moral as I did. I’m afraid that plank will slip 
from under in the Judgment Day.” 

“ Then you are not like a Mongol.” 

“What plank is under him — something better 
than doing his duty to his neighbor and living a 
good life himself?” 

“Buddhism is his plank; it has Scriptures and 
miracles, and crowds of followers, devout believers, 
who live and die in their belief.” 

“ Then I should think it would be hard to move 
him. ’ 

“Another difficulty is the fewness of our reli- 
gious books, compared to the multitude of their 
own; they say they do not know how many books 
they have. One of their sacred collections con- 
tains a hundred volumes. 

“ One Bible is enough for me,” said grandfather. 
“ I have read it all my life, and don’t begin to know 
half of it.” 


GRANDFATHER'S DIFFICULTIES. 


345 


“ The idea of the Trinity is another thing that 
puzzles our Mongol heathen.” 

“ I leave that alone.” 

“ He is so accustomed to hard truths in his own 
religion that he is willing to lay this aside as one 
of the things too deep for him to understand.” 

“ That’s the way I do; that is the kind of Mongol 
I am.” 

“One of the questions often asked is: “If it 
is only Jesus who can save men, are all lost who 
died before he came into the world ?” 

u I know about that,” said the old man, quickly. 
“I know Abraham saw his day and rejoiced to 
see it.” 

Bel was watching both faces as she listened; her 
grandfather’s eyes were gleaming with delighted 
surprise ; it was new to be met in this way ; it gave 
him something fresh to think about. 

“Their own system teaches that a man must 
suffer for his own sin, and that he cannot escape 
punishment; but when clearly explained, he does 
not object to vicarious suffering. A Mongol can- 
not understand how a man’s body can live again.” 

“ I do not understand how," said grandfather, 
“ but I believe it will. I have got to go back to 
childhood, Mr. Dekker. I’m too old and flighty 


346 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


and absent-minded to reason about these things; 
I’ve got to take them like Bel Hope. She doesn’t 
knowhow not to believe; she takes the Bible as 
she reads it and never contradicts anything. She 
doesn’t have difficulties.” 

“ I cannot see that you have,” replied Mr. Dek- 
ker, smiling. 

“ I thought I had; I think when I bring them to 
the light they are like ghosts and fade away.” 

“ The Mongols generally believe that they are 
sinners; they believe also that guilt must be can- 
celled.” 

“ It has been hard for me to think myself a 
great sinner; I’ve dug and delved on this little 
farm all my life. I’ve never been fifty miles away 
from it. I wasn’t a bad husband as husbands go, 
and I was always good to Bel Hope’s mother, ex- 
cepting perhaps that I wouldn’t let her have her 
fling like other girls; but she took it for all 
that. I had to get my place mortgaged because 
1 went security for a man I liked, but I’ve 
paid the interest regular, and nobody will lose no- 
thing by me. I’ve done lots of kindnesses for un- 
grateful folks, and never kept back a cent of a 
man’s wages. I never was profane, and I never 
had no taste for liquor, and I’ve read good books 


GRANDFATHER'S DIFFICULTIES. 


347 


when I have read any. I haven’t been to church, 
and that's a bad record.” 

“ Our Mongol reasons something in that style ; 
he believes that at death his good actions are bal- 
anced against his bad; if the good actions weigh 
the heavier, he has his reward, if the bad ones 
bring the scale down, he must be proportionately 
punished, lie says his prayers — ” 

“ I confess I have never prayed much beside the 
Lord’s Prayer, night and morning — ” 

“And he goes on long pilgrimages to famous 
temples, and when the Christian missionary tells 
him that all this does not count, he is shocked, and 
more shocked still when he is told that a man can 
do absolutely nothing to merit pardon; that his 
good life counts for nothing, that the thief and the 
murderer have as good a claim to Heaven as he. 
Now is the time for him to be offended and not stay 
to learn more of what Christ requires of his fol- 
lowers.” 

Bel was watching her grandfather, uneasily ; 
would he be offended ? Was he like a Mongol in 
this ? 

“ Our Mongol has to learn, be he old and filled 
with his own good works, or old and a great sin- 
ner in his own eyes, that it is not merely the can- 


348 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


celling of past sins, but that his heart must be 
made pure from the love of sin itself; this is 
enough to discourage him, for he has been taught 
that he must do everything for himself, and how 
can himself eradicate the love of sin, the tendency 
to sin ? The heart Christ dwells in must be a pure 
heart; made pure by Christ’s own blood; not kept 
pure by the man’s own goodness, or made pure 
by his own obedience.” 

Grandfather drew his hand away from the hand 
that held it ; muttered words were upon his lips ; 
he moved uncomfortably and asked Bel sharply to 
bring him a glass of water. 

“ Sometimes a Mongol asks if believing in God 
and obeying his laws will not be sufficient, and 
then he is told that no man can come to the 
Father, excepting by his Son Jesus Christ.” 

Grandfather drained the goblet and returned it 
to his handmaiden. 

“I suppose they like to argue,” he said, “the 
same as other folks.” 

“Yes, and they are quick to detect a weak link 
in their opponent’s chain ; a missionary told me that 
he prayed continually for his answers to be given 
him while debating with the Buddhist priests.” 

“ Did you say their sins are the same as ours T 


GRAND FA THEN S DIFFICUL TIES. 


349 


44 The Mongol has his Decalogue; a list of ten 
black sins; they are divided into three classes ; the 
sins of the body, the tongue, and the mind. There 
are four sins of the tongue: the false word, the i 
harsh word, the slanderous word, the idle word.” 

Bel was making mental note of the sins of the 
tongu e 

u The Mongol believes most devoutly in prayer.” 

“I have never thought much about prayer,” con- 
fessed grandfather, 44 but I would feel uneasy if I 
went to sleep and forgot to say my prayers; last 
night I was asleep before I knew it, and I said it 
quick enough when I woke up the first time, and 
felt that I had missed something.” 

4 4 Many of his prayers are simple repetitions; he 
uses them as charms. Dear old friend, may I ask 
if the prayers you have prayed all these nights has 
been answered yet ?” 

44 The Lord’s Prayer !” I never thought about 
its being answered ; how could it be ?” 

44 You have had your daily bread ?” 

44 And I worked for it ; got it by the sweat of 
my brow.” 

44 And your sins have been forgiven, even as 
you forgave those who sinned against you !” 

44 Young man, I haven’t forgiven this girl’s father 


350 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


yet, and I can’t see that I ever will. I have anoth- 
er grudge against him for not being a good father 
to her; not alone my daughter, but my grand- 
daughter ! I’d like to fight it out with him if we 
were both young and strong.” 

“ Oh, grandpapa, dear !” exclaimed Bel. “ Poor 
papa !” 

“ I’ve said too much,” sighed the old man. 44 1 
always do. I never like to speak of him. Kun 
away, Bel Hope, go out in the yard. Marietta will 
let you feed the chickens to-night.” 

Bel was glad to 4 4 run away.” How could grand- 
papa help seeing that he was like a Mongol ? He 
would soon be angry with Mr. Prosper and bid 
him stop talking. Not choosing to ask Aunt 
Marie to let her feed the chickens, she followed the 
path to the gate, and even used the freedom to un- 
latch it and go down the steps into the road. Up 
the straight road were houses on both sides, houses 
she had never entered ; all the girls in the neigh- 
borhood had called upon her ; she would have 
been glad to know what their homes were like ; 
they were bright girls, not as pretty as Janet, and 
not chatterboxes like Ellinor, not fascinating like 
the picture she had seen of Mr. Prosper’s 44 Annie ;” 
but they were girls, and she was lonely for girls, 


GRANDFATHER'S DIFFICULTIES. 


351 


and the fun and work and looking forward that 
these girls must have among themselves. Miss Jue 
did not admire them, but she never admired any 
one, and Mr. Perez hardly knew their names; but 
Aunt Marie loved them all, and not a day passed 
that one of the girls or one of their mothers did 
not come to talk to her; to tell her some good, or 
some sad news. 

“ Bel Hope doesn’t want to know these girls, 
Marietta,” grandfather had growled at her one 
day, when she came to the sitting-room door 
and asked her to come out and see Mary Hyde 
and her fancy work; she did long to see that 
fancy work. 

She had not thought to put on her broad hat; 
she must not go far with her uncovered head; 
she was beyond her half acre already ; a carriage 
driving toward her frightened her back to the 
house. The girls of the neighborhood played cro- 
quet bareheaded, and Mary Hyde’s red head might 
be seen many times a day inside her garden fence; 
but Bel hastened back with the sun shining on her 
braided hair and was in time not to keep grandfa- 
ther waiting for his five o’clock cup of tea. 

“ lies plain enough to talk to the heathen,” he 
said, when she appeared before him, with his cup 


352 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


of tea, “ and I rather think he thought he was talk- 
ing to an old heathen. ” 

“Grandpapa, you are not a Mongol,” she laughed, 
merrily. 

“ It might be better for me if I was, ’ he grum- 
bled. 

Mrs. Kellinger entered with a slow, soft tread. 

“ Mamma, where have you been ?” exclaimed 

Bel. 

“ Scolding myself,” she answered, smiling. “ Bel, 
I wish you would find me something to do.” 

“Mamma, you are always busy,” Bel remon- 
strated. 


XXIII. 


OVER THE WAY. 

“ That old man over the way is a puzzle to me,” 
remarked Prosper Dekker, that same Sunday 
evening. 

The cousins were sitting together on the piazza. 
Miss Jue and her book were withimthe open win- 
dow; Miss Jue kept an unopened book about her on 
Sundays ; her brother said it gave her a literary air 
and she did not have the bother of reading; her 
Bible she read in the silence of her own chamber ; 
it seemed rather wicked to her to have the Bible 
about among common things, as Prosper did. 

When a child she had been allowed to read no 
book upon the Sabbath excepting the Bible; in 
those uneasy days she had compromised by read- 
ing the stories of the Apocrypha ; it was the 
Bible and yet not the Bible ; how she had laughed 
over them. As long as she lived she would have a 

queer feeling about Sunday evenings; her father 
23 ( 353 ) 


354 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


had religiously begun his Sabbath with the setting 
sun of Saturday and allowed nothing beside Sun- 
day work and Sunday conversation to hallow the 
dawn of his Sabbath; her mother had as relig- 
iously observed Sunday evenings as the close of 
her Sabbath, and allowed nothing of a week daj 
nature to interfere with its sanctity. Two Sab- 
bath evenings every week had not been enjoyed 
by the restless little Jue ; if only she might 
have chosen either her father’s or her mothers 
evening, and had one for play ! Her mother 
usually knit upon her father’s evening, and her 
father employed himself upon some light labor 
in her mother’s evening ; but Jue was kept at 
her father’s side upon Saturday evening, learn- 
ing the catechism, and at her mother’s side 
Sunday evening, reading aloud to her from the 
Bible. 

“ How is he a puzzle to you ?” asked Miss Jue. 

“ He says he has read the Bible through a dozen 
times (and that counts up among his good works) 
and yet the vail is upon his heart as upon the 
Jews; the Saviour of sinners has not come into the 
world for him.” 

“ I don’t know why not,” said Miss Jue. 

Religious conversation upon Sunday did not 


OVER THE WAY. 


355 


cause her uneasiness ; it seemed a fitting time for 
it; as fitting as washtubs on Monday morning. 

“ They are all a puzzle to me over there,” she re- 
plied ; “ that widow looking too pretty in her wid- 
ow’s cap, and that girl waiting on her grandfather 
and yet getting in a fume over it every once in a 
while. Marietta is sensible ; she keeps about her 
business.” 

“ They are as natural as Eve after she learned to 
sin,” said Prosper; “none of them keep their 
naughty ways to themselves.” 

“ I believe you like them all the better for it,” 
said sharp Miss Jue; “that widow is artful, with 
all her artlessness.” 

“ In what does her art consist ?” asked Prosper, 
much amused. 

“In arousing sympathy; I don’t see why she is 
to be pitied more than any one else. She has mon- 
ey enough to live on, and her husband was no 
comfort to her.” 

“ 0, cousin Jue ! What a view to take of her life !” 

“ Life has its bread and butter side, if you don’t 
see it,” she retorted, “ and she knows which side 
her bread is buttered on.” 

“ 0, woman !” cried Perez, “ how uncharitable 
thou canst be to each other.” 


356 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ 0, man, how thou canst never see a fault in a 
woman if she has a pretty face,” was the retort in 
quick bitterness. 

“Now you are uncharitable to us,” answered 
Prosper. “ I see all her faults; they are all on the 
surface; she has not the art to conceal them.” 

“ That is the artfulness of artlessness, then ! 
Who loves me the better for my faults?” 

Alas, who did? Neither of her auditors, surely. 

“ I didn’t know you acknowledged any,” said 
Perez, teasingly. 

“ I say, Perez,” said Prosper, “ the first love story 
in the Bible has a point. God did not hurt Adam 
when he made Eve for him : he brought her to him, 
made out of himself, while he was asleep; one 
point of that sleep is, that Adam had no care 
about it; all he had to do was to awake and find 
her. Which reminds me of some stanzas I wrote in 
my college days — ” 

“ Please, don’t,” begged Perez. 

“ I didn’t intend to. I’ll save them for Mrs. Iso- 
bel.” 

“ You will be calling her Isobel next,” interjected 
Miss Jue. 

“ That is but one remove from it.” 

“ She is old enough to be your mother.” 


OVER THE WAY. 


357 


“ Hardly,” in a constrained tone. 

Iso one exceeded Miss Jue in introducing un- 
pleasant topics. 

“ How that old man lives on,” observed Perez. 

“People that bother you don’t die right away — 
outside of books,” replied Miss Jue. “ They live to 
keep on bothering you.” 

“ I want him to live until he reads the Bible 
through again,” said Prosper. 

“ Isobel is doing that now for him,” said Perez. 
“ What a change over there his death will make.” 

“ Most of all to him,” said Prosper, half to him- 
self. 

“ He has found this world a comfortable enough 
place,” remarked Miss Jue. 

“ Paul said that to stay on earth was to have 
Christ with him, and yet he thought it far better to 
go away and be with Christ.” 

Again Prosper spoke as if speaking to himself. 

Miss Jue supposed it to be one of his Sunday 
meditations ; but there was one thing about Pros- 
per, he was as “ devoted ” week days as on Sun- 
days ; she almost wondered how he knew when 
Sunday came. His “ disappointment ” had cer- 
tainly made him more of a saint than ever; the 
queer part of it was that his saintliness, instead of 


358 


IS 03 EL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


separating him from Perez (who was as different 
as day from night) was bringing them nearer to- 
gether. Somehow Perez always understood him. 

“ Were you with the old man this afternoon?” 

Miss Jue detected a hint of jealousy in her broth- 
er’s voice ; she was an excellent detective. 

“ Part of the time. He had a pain somewhere, 
and asked for a mustard plaster about the size of 
a dollar — that was not to-day, however, and I wish 
you could have seen Bel’s eyes when she asked if 
it were a gold dollar, a silver dollar, or a dollar bill.” 

“She pokes plenty of fun at him,” said Perez; 
“ did he snub you this afternoon ? ” 

“No; he seemed glad to listen to some plain 
truths.” 

“You do not speak any other kind,” snapped 
Miss Jue. 

“I do not know any other kind.” 

Old Malt was purring at his mistress’ side ; he 
gave a leap into her lap, sure of his welcome. 

“ How does a man feel to believe a thing all his 
life, and then to be forced to acknowledge it false !” 

Perez’s exclamation was not in the way of a 
question. 

“ He feels that he has been a fool,” was Miss 
Jue’s reply. 


OVER THE WAY. 


359 


“In the year 1806,” said Prosper, “the French 
Institute enumerated eighty geological theories 
which were hostile to the Scriptures ; not one of 
them is held to-day.” 

“ They believed too quick,” answered Miss Jue. 

“ They would not have made themselves such 
fools if they had held to the good old Scripture 
record,” said Perez. 

“ Don’t talk to me about geology in the Bible,” 
said Miss Jue, making a motion as if to push the 
geology away with her hands. 

“ I was thunder-struck yesterday,” said Perez, 
with the feeling in his voice, “when I read that old 
Job speaks of an empty place in the north of the 
heavens : ‘ he stretcheth out the north over the 
empty place/ and now the astronomers tell us that 
the only place in the stellar heavens where no stars 
can be discovered is the north . When I learned it 
and believed it, I accepted the Bible as I had never 
done before; no argument has ever moved me like 
that. Because of it I was all the more ready to 
believe your truth this morning.” 

“ That fact is new to me. I am glad to know 
it.” 

“ I don’t see what difference it makes,” rebelled 
Miss Jue. 


360 


ISO BEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“Do you know, cousin Jue,” Prosper turned 
toward her and laid his hand on the window sill, 
“how wise the wisdom of the Egyptians was? 
Plato tells us that the wise old fellows taught that 
the heavens originated out of a kind of pulp, and 
that men were generated from the slime of the 
Nile.” 

“What has that to do with Job ? ” 

“How did Job know about the empty place in 
the north ? ” 

“ By inspiration, of course.” 

“ His telescope had not swept the sky,” added 
Perez. 

“Speaking of telescopes, cousin Jue, there are 
telescopes of such penetrating power that, looking 
through them, you can read in a clear atmosphere 
ordinary print at the distance ot twenty miles.” 

“ H’m,” muttered Miss Jue. “I’d like to try.” 

“ Perez, if life were not so interesting on this 
side of the water, I believe I would take a trip 
across!” exclaimed Prosper, with something new 
in his tone. 

“So would I. But that’s just it. I like life 
better on this side. I do not object to the rest, 
either.” 

Miss Jue pushed Malt out of her lap and arose, 


OVER THE WAY. 


361 


speaking in a sudden tone: “Prosper, where is 
Annie Pierrepont ? ” 

u At Nantucket.” 

44 When did you see her last ?” 

4 4 In Florence. How long ago was that ? ” he 
answered, easily. 

44 Is she married ?” persisted his questioner. 

44 Not yet.” 

44 Engaged?” 

44 Possibly. There is a handsome young fellow 
hanging around Nantucket, her father told me.” 

44 I used to think — but she is such a child ! 
Prosper, I believe you are above such earthly 
things.” 

44 I am sorry your belief has so poor a founda- 
tion,” he returned, lightly. 

As Miss Jue pushed Malt off, and moved away, 
Perez said: 44 Does Bel remind you of her ?” 

Miss Jue would again have detected something 
in the tone. 

“ I had not thought of it.” 

41 4 Old fellow, you hit me pretty sharp this morn- 
ing.” 

44 As I intended to,” said Prosper, laying his hand 
upon his cousin’s head and drawing it backward. 

44 Prosper,” in a peculiarly moved tone, 44 you do 


362 


I SOB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


not need to preach to me; your life is more than 
all your words.” 

“ Don’t say that,” was the pained reply, “ I am 
weaker than water. I never felt it as I do to- 
night. Will you read to me awhile V 

“ They went into the light, and while Perez 
read Prosper lay upon the sofa, following each 
thought with perfect appreciation. The book 
Perez chose was one Prosper had given to him. 

“No man was ever more like you,” Perez re- 
marked, as he took it from the shelf. 

Opening in the early chapters he read, as Pros- 
per had told him, “ as no other man reads that I 
know.” 

Bel said his reading was better than any music 
she had ever heard; Miss Jue acknowledged that 
it did not make her nervous. 

“ I remember, when a very, very young boy, 
going out shooting with my father, and praying 
as often as the dogs came to a point, that he might 
kill the bird. As he did not always do this, and as 
sometimes there would occur false points, my heart 
got bewildered. I believe I began to doubt some- 
times the efficacy of a prayer, sometimes the 
lawfulness of field sports. Once too I recollect, 
when I was taken up with nine other boys at 


OVER THE WAY. 


363 


school to be unjustly punished, I prayed to escape 
the shame. The master, previously to flogging all 
the others, said to me, to the great bewilderment 
of the whole school : 4 Little boy, I excuse you ; I 
have particular reasons for doing it and, in fact, I 
was never flogged during the three years I was 
at that school. That incident settled my mind for 
a long time; only I doubt whether it did me any 
good, for prayer became a charm. I fancied my- 
self the favorite of the invisible. I knew that I 
carried about with me a talisman unknown to 
others, which would save me from all harm. 
It did not make me better; it simply gave me 
security, as the Jew felt safe in being the descend- 
ant of Abraham, or went into battle under the pro- 
tection of the Ark, sinning no less all the time.” 

The other side of this boyish religion — the ador- 
ation of purity, he symbolized for himself in wom- 
anhood. Under this symbol he worshipped with a 
boy’s unquestioning worship, his Idea. Like a 
boy too, he transferred to the Form all the excel- 
lence of the Idea. 

As he grew up, he surrounded the conception 
of woman with all the sacredness of his highest 
religious aspirations, while his reverence for this 
conception tended in itself to exalt his desire for 


364 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


holiness of life, and to keep him true to his ideal. 
In one of his lectures at Brighton, he says: “ It is 
feelings such as these, call them romantic it you 
will, which I know, from personal experience, can 
keep a man all his youth through, before a higher 
faith has been called into being, from every spe- 
cies of vicious and low indulgence, in every shape 
and form. 

****** 

And now, at his entrance into manhood, both 
these ideas, which formed, as it were, his natural 
religion, became, and continued always to be, the 
foundations of his spiritual religion. He found 
them realized for him in Christ, the perfect Man. 
His writings teem with glowing descriptions of 
Christ as the great Vindicator of all wrong ; of 
Christ in his contest with the spirit of the world, 
of opposition, of hypocrisy. To Christ also, as the 
spotless purity, he transferred his young belief m 
the entire stainlessness of womanhood; he saw in 
him not only perfect manhood, but perfect woman- 
hood.” 

“ I remember that,” said the voice on the sofa. 

“ Your pencil mark is here. Here is something 
else about you. ‘ He took upon himself the office 
of a minister with the keenest sense of responsi- 


OVER THE WAY. 


365 


bility, and the most perfect devotion of will. He 
desired to emulate the spirit of St. Paul. I was 
not present when he was ordained, but I heard 
from those who were, that his agitation was over- 
powering. When I saw him the day after, he 
looked as if he had been through an illness. He 
seemed quite shattered.’ Here is something else 
for you. I believe I have marked the passages, 
and many there are, that remind me of you. You 
see, old fellow, I am reading you a lecture. I do 
not wish you to be too much like your ideal. 

44 4 His heart conquered easily, and in a moment, 
his philosophy!’ And again: 4 His affection some- 
times vitiated his judgment, and he idealized his 
friends with a perfection which did not often be- 
long to them. One result of this was that when a 
friend failed him, and his ideal fell from its ped- 
estal, the shock almost broke his heart. Another, 
and the most important was, that the greatest 
change in his life and modes of thought were 
wrought in a large degree through the influence 
of his friends.’ ” 

44 You consider that a weakness? ” 

44 Do you not ?” 

44 A change in one’s life or mode of thought 
should be wrought only by the truth.” 


366 


I SO BE US BETWEEN TIMES . 


44 And this is for you : 4 He saw his friends 
through his own atmosphere of love and truthful- 
ness, and when, as sometimes happened, he was, 
against his will, convinced that what he saw was 
partially, at least, an air- built castle, the beauty of 
which was his own creation ; the blow fell heavily 
and sorely on his heart.’” 

“Are you warning me?” Prosper inquired, with 
some amusement, rising on his elbow. 

“ In general, yes.” 

“ You see no need of particular application ?” in 
a tone greatly relieved, as he dropped back to the 
sofa pillow. 

“Your secret consciousness must determine 
that,” was the light reply. “Now, will you have a 
bit out of another life, somebody whose college 
career was marked with 4 fun and fighting,’ whom 
you are not at all like — splendid old Guthrie.” 

44 That will do for to-night, thank you. I believe 
I must walk a mile for the sake of exercise.” 

44 And to get some Guthrie into you ! Do you 
wish to go alone ?” 

44 Thank you, yes.” 

44 And to get your next Sunday’s text. Are you 
engaged Sundays now ?” 

44 Six Sundays ahead.” 


OVER THE WAY. 


367 


“ Shall you ever settle down again ?” 

“When I have a special call.” 

“ How do you get your texts ? I know you do 
not hunt the Corcordance through.” 

“Out of my heart and my life, and my battles 
with myself. I am sure to find words to fit.” 


XXIV. 


bel’s education. 

Bel was two miles from home; grandfather had 
sent her with a note to Mr. Canfield; it was some- 
thing about the mortgage, she knew; in her 
pocket was the reply carefully pinned in, for he 
had charged her to pin it into her pocket and not 
to let the grass grow under her feet in bringing it 
home. Sam had taken her in the hay rick, on his 
way to the meadows for a load of hay, and she had 
begged that she might walk home ; it was so long 
since she had walked so far; she and Madame had 
thought nothing of walking to St. Addresse and 
back again. 

She was up on the green bank among the black- 
berry bushes, when the sound of her own name 
startled her; who could be calling her so far away 
from home ? 

“ Isobel, will you ride ? ” 

Her mouth was stained with blackberries; she 

was ashamed to turn. 

( 368 ) 


BEDS EDUCATION. 


3G9 


u Isobel ! Isobel ! ” 

“Oh, Mr. Perez,” she cried, laughingly, a did you 
come after me because I was lost ? ” 

His phaeton was close to the bank; with the 
reins in his hand he stood below her in the road. 

“ I came behind you, not after you ; Prosper had 
a call to make and I told him he must walk home.” 

“ So must I,” she said, under her broad hat. 

“Not if you go with me; come.” 

“ I do not want to go home so soon ; I have per- 
mission to be away long enough to walk.” 

“ Then we will drive around ; you have never 
seen Hanover.” 

Remonstrance was upon her lips, but he silenced 
her and assisted her into the phaeton. 

“My new phaeton,” he said; “I knew you would 
like to try it.” 

“Miss Jue said it was so nice,” she returned. 

“ For two only. I would like to spend my va- 
cation driving around in it — with you.” 

u You have been out every day — so far,” she hur- 
ried to say. 

“ With Prosper, yes. I wish I could keep him 
here instead of going to the sea-shore. I think I 
shall send them away and stay myself.” 

“ Mamma wishes to go.” 

24 


370 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Would you like to drive ? ” 

“ 0 yes, thank you,” she accepted, delightedly, 
“but I know nothing about it.” 

“I will teach you; you must not forget that 
your education is entrusted to me.” 

He laid the reins in her hand, and then leaned 
lazily back watching her as she sat upright ; all 
he saw under her hat were the flushed cheek, and 
the pretty ear, half hidden by the waves of soft, 
shining hair. He had touched her hair once, 
and she had drawn away. Was this the girl who 
had talked to him in that sunshiny room in Havre ? 
Her quaint surroundings gave her the air of a pic- 
ture; now she was more like an everyday maiden, 
especially with the stains of blackberry upon her 
finger tips. 

“ How is your Natural History getting on ? ” he 
asked, teazingly. 

The flush in her cheek deepened. 

“ When that is through I must give you a book 
for Science. What is Science ? ” 

“ Knowledge,” she answered readily. 

“First you must learn about the man in the 
moon.” 

“ Mr. Prosper told Ellinor about the moon one 
day.” 


BEL'S EDUCATION. 


371 


“ What did he say ? ” 

“He said the two eyes — but I have forgotten. 
Ellinor put it in her journal, but I had none.” 

“ The two eyes are said to be formed by two 
seas; the Sea of Showers and the Sea of Tranquil- 
lity ; the Sea of Tranquillity is the darkest large 
tract on the surface of the moon ; will you remem- 
ber what the Man’s eyes are made of?” 

“Two seas. His eyes swim in tears all the 
time, then.” 

“ His nose is outlined by a range of mountains, 
but the nose itself is formed by seas; will you 
remember the names, if I repeat them to you?” 

“Try and see,” she said, seriously, looking down 
at the reins. 

“The Sea of Vapors — ” 

“The Sea of Vapors,” she repeated. 

“The Bay of Tides and Mid-Moon Bay.” 

Obediently she repeated the names of the bays. 

“The mouth is rather wide and gaping — and no 
w T onder; all he sees upon the earth is enough to 
astonish the old fellow — and is formed by the Sea 
of Clouds.” 

In her interest she had forgotten the horse, 
and he had made his way to the grass by the 
roadside. 


372 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“0 dear,” she exclaimed: “ how shall I get 
him back ?” 

Taking her hands into his own, he guided the 
reins and brought the horse back into the middle 
of the road. 

“ I thought Frisk knew better,” she said. 

u He feels that your hands are unskillful. Now 
tell me the names of the seas in the moon.” 

“ The Sea of Clouds, the Sea of Vapors, the 
Mid-moon Bay, and, the sea of — Forgetfulness,” 
she laughed. 

“ To punish you, I shall make you repeat each 
twice after me.” 

“ It is fun,” she said, “ and not punishment.” 

“Then I will not tell you again; that will be 
punishment.” 

u Then I will ask Mr. Prosper,” she said, saucily. 

“And that would punish me. I would rather 
you should have your fun, than that I should have 
mv punishment. Repeat as I say it, please. Watch 
my words. Say the Sea of Tranquillity, the Sea of 
Tranquillity, hut not the Sea of Clouds ! Repeat 
that, please.” 

With a merry light in her eyes and demure lips 
she repeated: “The Sea of Tranquillity ! The Sea 
of Tranquillity.” 


BEDS EDUCATION. 


373 


“You witch,” he said, laughing. 44 I have not 
caught you. You have heard it before.” 

44 Grandpapa said last night, 4 Marietta, say this 
after me: the Goose, the Goose, but not the Gan- 
der !' And she said: 4 The Goose, the Goose, but 
not the Gander’ as he said it, and he said: ‘No, 
say the Goose! The Goose, but not the Gander and 
I caught it and said : 4 The goose ! the goose ! ’ And 
I did not say, 4 the gander ’ because he told me not 
to. And then I caught mamma, and Mary Hyde, 
and he laughed like a big boy. I love to make 
him laugh.” 

44 1 see I have not caught you.” 

44 1 would not like to be easily caught,” she an- 
swered sedately. 

44 No, you are as shy as a yellow bird. But this 
is not your education ; it is too trifling.” 

44 Then teach me something else. I have learned 
something new to-day without your teaching, Mr. 
Perez Dekker. Old Mr. Canfield, you know him ?” 

44 1 know he exists.” 

44 1 saw him, and he asked me if I were from the 
land of Napoleon Bonaparte ; and he said he saw 
him in England, when the — what is the name of 
the ship ?” 

44 Bellerophon T 


374 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Yes, he saw him on the Bellerophon. When he 
comes to talk to grandpapa I do not like him; but 
I like him now, because he has seen the Emperor/’ 

“Are you sure Napoleon Bonaparte ever lived?” 

In her astonishment she dropped the reins and 
turned to look at him. 

Frisk trotted contentedly on. 

“Why are you sure? Don’t forget your reins!” 

She gathered the reins and sat mute. 

“ I must read to you my 4 Historic Doubts rela- 
tive to Napoleon Bonaparte.’” 

“ Doubts about what ? ” she asked, guiding Frisk 
into the middle of the road. Behind her on the 
cushion was a small volume she had not noticed; 
he found it and opened it. 

“ Prosper read to me as we drove along; this 
book is a great favorite of his. I have a mind to 
try it on you. May I read ? ” 

“ Please.” 

“Turn the first corner; we have plenty of time. 
You know French history, I suppose ?” 

“ Oh, yes.” 

He read: “There was a certain man of Corsica 
whose name was Napoleon, and he was one of the 
chief captains of the host of the French; and he 
gathered together an army and went and fought 


BEL’S EDUCATION. 


375 


against Egypt; but when the king of Britain 
heard thereof, he sent ships of war and valiant 
men to fight against the French in Egypt. So 
they warred against them and prevailed, and 
strengthened the hands of the rulers of the land 
against the French, and drove away Napoleon 
from before the city of Acre. Then Napoleon left 
the captains and the army that were in Egypt, 
and fled, and returned back to France. So the 
French people took Napoleon and made him ruler 
over them, and he became exceeding great, inso- 
much that there was none like him of all that had 
ruled over France before.” 

“ Is that a translation ? ” she asked, as he paused. 

“No, it was written in English.” 

“ What makes it sound so queer ? ” 

“Does it ? What does it sound like ? ” 

“Not like a history of Napoleon.” 

“ Do you mean that it is not true ? ” 

“ 0 no,” she replied, puzzled. 

“Shall I go on?” 

“Yes, please. I must see what it means.” 

He read again : “And it came to pass after 
these things that Napoleon strengthened himself, 
and gathered together another host instead of that 
which he had lost, and went and warred against 


376 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


the Prussians, and the Russians, and the Austrians, 
and all the rulers ot the north country which 
were confederate against him. And the ruler of 
Sweden also, which was a Frenchman, warred 
against Napoleon. So they went forth and warred 
against the French in the plains of Leipsic. And 
the French were discomfited before their enemies, 
and fled, and came to the rivers which are behind 
Leipsic, and essayed to pass over, that they might 
escape out of the hands ot their enemies; but 
they could not, for Napoleon had broken down the 
bridges; so the people of the north countries came 
upon them, and smote them w T ith a very grievous 
slaughter.” 

The listener was still puzzled. “Why is it 
written like the Bible?” 

“Is it?” 

“ It certainly is. It sounds like the parts of the 
Bible that grandpapa likes.” 

“ Would he like this ? ” 

“It would sound queer; not like ‘Abbott’s Life 
of Napoleon,’ that you loaned us.” 

“ Hardly.” 

“ Why is it written in that style ? ” 

“I wonder if you would understand. Perhaps 
I was not wise to begin this thing. A wise and 


BEDS EDUCATION. 


377 


good man, Dr. Whately, who loved and believed 
the Bible, has written this book to prove that what 
wicked men and unbelievers urge against the 
truths of the Bible may be urged against the im- 
probable and yet true story of Napoleon Bona- 
parte. I merely intended to puzzle you with the 
style of a part of it.” 

“ I would Jike to hear that part of it — the other 
is way beyond me.” 

“ The logic, so it is.” 

“Would grandpapa like the logic? Would it 
help him ? ” 

“ I do not think he needs it.” 

“ Mr. Perez, what does he need ? ” 

She turned and looked up with serious eyes. 

“ Just what I need, I suspect.” 

“ Do you need something ?” 

“ Am I like Prosper ? ” 

“No,” she said, smiling. “Oh, I must turn this 
corner. But I must not stay too long.” 

“Is your drive satisfactory?” 

“ What kind of a factory is that ? ” she asked, mis- 
chievously. 

“ A factory is literally a place where they make 
things; satis signifies enough; therefore a satis- 
factory is a place where they make enough.” 


378 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“Then if this carriage makes enough pleasure 
for me, it is a satis-factory.” 

“ Or if it make enough pain for you, is it a satis- 
factory ? ” 

“ We do not use it so.” 

“You may; you may say that you are satisfied 
with my company, that is that you have enough 
of it.” 

“A little maybe enough then?” she said, with 
a flash of the eyes that he felt without seeing. 

“A little may be too much.” 

“ Am I going far from home ? ” 

“ Do you wish to turn ? ” 

“Not unless — ” 

“ Let me take the reins; I will drive faster.” 

“ 0 no, please; teach me how.” 

The next five minutes was taken up with a 
lesson in driving. 

“I would like to teach you to drive, Isobel. I 
would like to teach you one thousand things.” 

“ I think you have.” 

“I am more and more out of favor with going 
away; but Jue insists; however, it is not so bad as 
going to Oxford, as somebody wants me to.” 

“ I should think you would love to go. Is Annie 
Pierrepont there ? I long to see her.” 


BEDS EDUCATION, \ 


379 


44 Why ? ” he asked suspiciously. 

44 Because she is so beautiful; and I wronged her 
once.” 

44 Without seeing her?” he said, incredulously. 

44 And Mr. Prosper was very angry with me. 
But he is not angry at all now.” 

44 1 should think not,” with quick resentment. 

4i Is she there ?” 

44 No, she is at another sea shore.” 

44 1 wish I knew — I do not like to ask you—” 

44 If she will marry him ?” he said, with sharp 
suspicion. 

44 Yes,” she answered seriously. 

44 1 do not think she ever will.” 

Bel played with the reins. She had not hin- 
dered. She had confessed in time. She was so 
sorry. 

He felt the emotion in the half averted eyes ; he 
misunderstood and misconstrued it. His sister 
had told him about some little happening that 
morning that his suspicious eyes kept him from 
seeing things straight. 

44 Shall we turn ?” he asked, in a constrained 
tone. 4 4 Hanover may be too far for you.” 

44 Thank you; if you think so!” she said, disap- 
pointedly, yielding the reins to his hands. 


380 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


Not liking to ask for them again, she sat up- 
right, rubbing the stains off her fingers. Had he 
forgotten her ? He did not speak one word for an 
entire mile. 

“ It looks like a shower,” she ventured. 

She spoke timidly, and he seemed not to hear. 

“ Oh, Mr. Perez,” she said, at last; “Mr. Prosper 
told me something funny.” 

“ Is it worth repeating ?” 

“ It was worth repeating to me !” she answered, 
in a tone as uncomfortable as his own. 

“ Excuse me ; what is it ? I believe I have not 
been very social the last five minutes.” 

“A little of you in that mood is more than 
enough,” she said, saucily. “ Mamma said some- 
thing about women, and he said : 

‘ If a woman were as little as she is good, 

A pea shell would make her a gown and a hood.’” 

“ I might make a rhyme of my own: 

4 If a woman were as little as she is true , 

An inch of leather would make her a shoe.’ ” 

“Are women not true, then?” she questioned 
with grieved astonishment. 

“They are not true when they keep their hearts 
veiled. When they will not do and speak as they 
feel.” 


BEL'S EDUCATION. 


381 


“ Suppose they feel wrong V she retorted, mer- 
rily. 

He did not smile or reply. She was glad when 
the drive was ended. 

“Why did you not walk?” asked grandfather. 

“ I wish I had,” she answered, sharply. 


XXV. 


DOLLAR BILLS. 

The next Saturday morning grandfather (all the 
Dekkers spoke of him as grandfather) sat in his 
chair on the piazza, watching with keen, sleepy- 
eyed interest the group upon the steps. On the 
top step, so near his chair that by stretching out 
her hand she could touch the arm of his chair, 
Isobel was perched, arrayed in her pink calico 
morning dress, with her hair in its one long, bright 
braid, her round cheeks flushed and her laughing 
eyes even more wide open than usual. It was dif- 
ficult to believe that the birthday past was not her 
seventeenth. 

The cousins, Prosper and Perez, were at each 
end of the middle of the flight of broad, wide steps, 
each with his straw hat upon his knee. Mrs. 
Kellinger, with her sewing, a white dress for Iso- 
bel, had brought her chair to grandfather’s side and 

placed her scissors and spool of cotton on its right 
( 382 ) 


DOLLAR BILLS . 


383 


arm, near Isobel’s head. This mother and daugh- 
ter had a way of loving to sit near each other. 
Mrs. Kel linger had told Prosper Dekker that she 
did not know that it was in her to love as she 
loved Isobel. 

“ It is all in her and not in me,” she said. “She 
clung to me when I would have thrown her off.” 

Two French books were on the upper step be- 
side Bel. Perez had brought them, and she had 
laid them aside without opening them. Must she 
speak before them all, about the “ lessons ?” Would 
grandpapa call her back if she asked Mr. Perez to 
go down to the lilac bushes to see that queer little 
bird’s nest ? 

“I have had news this morning,” announced Mr. 
Prosper Dekker, drawing an envelope from an in- 
ner pocket. 

Instantly Bel’s mind reverted to the days on 
board the Goodspeed . How like and how unlike he 
was to those strange, new times. When they met 
again, that meeting she had dreaded, he seemed to 
have forgotten the last message he sent to her. 
But the letter in his hand recalled it to her mem- 
ory with painful force. Had he found “ Annie ” 
again, and did they understand each other? Had 
not her folly done very much harm ? 


384 


I SO BEDS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“This letter, Mrs. Kellinger, is from my house- 
keeper. She has written that she is summoned to 
her only son. His wife has suddenly died, and he 
is left with four small children ; and I am left with- 
out my housekeeper. What shall I do ?” 

“Is she the only one in the world?” inquired 
Mrs. Kellinger, arranging her work with precision. 

“The only one for me, I thought. She is a 
motherly soul, a lady every inch, and my house- 
hold affairs went on like clock work. She has 
gone and left the house with my young hand-maid- 
en. Good people, all, my invitation for the 
month holds good; for I can cook myself. I can 
make coffee and cook a steak.” 

“ Jue will be in her element to take charge,” 
said Perez. “We can go Monday just the same. 
No one’s plans need be disarranged. Miss Isobel, 
I wish you were going, too. Jue says your mother 
will do as well, but Prosper and I do not want our 
reading-circle spoiled by such a gap in it.” 

“ I told Bel this morning I would not go,” said 
Bel’s mother. 

“And I told her she should go,” added Bel; “ we 
do not need mamma, do we grandpapa ?” 

The old man lifted his head with a twinkle in 
his eyes. 


DOLLAR BILLS . 


385 


“ She is no good but to look pretty.” 

“ That is a great deal of good,” replied Prosper. 

44 No good to me,” persisted grandfather. u I can 
look at Bel Hope.” 

“ Mr. Devoe,” said Prosper, moving around that 
the old eyes might see his face, 44 best of all would 
I like to take you." 

44 Me!” echoed the broken voice; 44 that is a good 
joke.” 

“You are not as old as the old man who lived on 
one of the Shetland Islands awhile ago; a gentle- 
man heard that a very aged man lived there, and 
out of curiosity went to visit him. Approaching 
the cottage, he saw in the field close by an old 
man at work; he began to talk to him about old 
age, thinking such a topic might be agreeable, 
when the old laborer exclaimed : 4 It must be my 
father you have come to see ; there he is sitting 
outside the door.’ I translate his speech into good 
English. And there the old man was, outside the 
door, sitting on a stone, getting warm in the sun- 
light. He introduced himself as a traveller who 
had come' to see an old man, but how much was he 
surprised to hear him saying, pointing in-doors, 
with his staff : 4 It must be my father you have 

come to see ; 4 he’s there in the house U Going into 
25 


386 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES . 


the house he found a figure with bleared eyes and 
furrowed brow, hovering over a peat fire, stretch- 
ing out his palsied hands to catch the heat. He was 
sure, now, and he raised his voice, for the veri- 
table old man was as deaf as a door nail, and told 
him he had come to see a man famous for his 
great age. But imagine his astonishment when 
this old man repeated the words of the others: 
4 It must be my father you have come to see, 
he’s in there;’ and in there, sure enough, he 
found the father of three generations, lying in 
a box-bed, dried up, and about as lifeless as a 
mummy.’' 

Grandfather laughed until the tears rolled down 
his cheeks, the others chimed in, and the commo- 
tion became so great that Miss Devoe ran through 
the kitchen and through the hall to look out and 
inquire into such a hilarious matter. 

And then, at grandfather’s entreaty, Prosper re- 
peated the story. 

“ I never heard anything so good in my life;” 
said Mr. Devoe, still shaking with suppressed 
laughter. 

Marietta lingered in the doorway, in her linen 
dress, white apron and sweeping cap, the very im- 
personation of a thrifty housewife. 


DOLLAR BILLS. 


387 


44 She always puts her sweeping cap on, when 
she bakes explained Bel, 44 and then she’s prettier 
than anybody.” 

44 That is what she does it for,” said Perez. 

44 Miss Marie, I want a housekeeper ; can you 
find me one ?” asked Prosper. 

44 Yes,” was the serious reply, 44 take me.” 

44 1 wish I might !” 

44 It will be your own fault if you do not. I am 
available, if I would suit you.” 

44 Marietta /” exclaimed Mrs. Kellinger. 

44 Oh, Aunt Marie,” exclaimed Bel. 

44 1 am in downright earnest,” declared the 
housekeeper. 44 1 will go this very afternoon.” 

44 I wish I could believe you,” said Prosper. 

44 That is nonsense,” cried grandfather. 44 Marietta, 
go back to your work and don’t be a fool.” 

With a laugh and a beckoning finger to Pros- 
per, Marietta disappeared; with a laugh, he sprang 
up and followed her. 

44 Does she mean it?” asked Perez. 

44 Yes,” returned Marietta’s sister, 44 she has taken 
it into her head to go somewhere, but I did not 
think the somewhere would be so soon found. She 
will go.” 

44 She wont go,” decided grandfather, lifting his 


388 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


stick and bringing it down heavily on the floor of 
the piazza. 

“ Grandpapa, mamma and I will keep house for 
you, and you need not pay mamma any money.’* 

“ But she will not pay her board then ; with her 
board I pay my housekeeper; it is about as broad 
as it is long; what shall I make ?” 

“ I pay three dollars a week for my board, you 
pay Marietta two dollars a week, you gain one 
dollar a week.” 

“ Fifty-two dollars a year — for Bel Hope,” reck- 
oned the old man. 

“ You will not pay me anything — ” 

“And you will not pay me anything; in this 
way I shall pay three dollars per week to my 
housekeeper instead of two,” counted the old man, 
shrewdly, “ I repeat, what shall I make ? ” 

“ Mr. Prosper will make, grandpapa.” 

“Mr. Prosper can take care of himself; what do 
those Dekkers want to come and take my property 
away for ? ” 

“Don’t include Mr. Perez, grandpapa, dear,” 
laughed Bel. 

“Yes, do include me,” said Mr. Perez, in a very 
low tone, with a swift glance into the eyes that 
somehow were looking at him. 


DOLLAR BILLS . 


389 


44 Well, I wont have it, that’s all,” cried the old 
man, hoarsely, and lifting his stick to give Perez a 
poke in the back. 

“1 wish your grandfather hadn’t died, young 
man; he lived there forty years and never bothered 
me as you do in one half hour.” 

Again the peal of laughter rang out; highly in- 
censed, grandfather attempted to rise. 

44 I’ll take you in,” said Mrs. Kellinger, letting 
her work slip off her lap. 44 Bel and I have 
learned how to take care of you.” 

44 Great care you’ll take,” he muttered ; 44 the to- 
matoes were scorched yesterday because you did 
it.” 

44 Now, grandfather!” said Mrs. Kellinger, ap- 
pealingly, as she lifted his hand that it might rest 
on her shoulder. 

44 One Isobel is as much a girl as the other,” 
thought Perez, watching Mrs. Kellinger’s face 
and motions, 44 and sometimes, the elder seems the 
younger.” 

The halting steps passed through the hall; Bel 
took up the books, then laid them down; her 
throat grew dry, her eyes misty; but it was harder 
to leave it unsaid than to say it. 

44 Now for our reading,” Perez exclaimed; 44 come, 


390 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


Isobel, down to the big apple tree; your grand- 
father will go to sleep and your mother will fan 
him.” 

Beaching for the books, he caught her hand; 
“ come, little girl.” 

“ No-o,” she stammered; “Mr. Perez, I would 
rather have no more lessons ! ” 

“You would! What for? Do I try your pa 
tience ? ” 

“No,” she said smiling, and drawing her fingers 
away from his, “ but the money — I will take no 
more money from you; I am sorry I have taken 
money.” 

“ Do you wish to return it?” he asked, comically. 

“I wish I might! So many dollars! But I 
have spent them,” she said, ruefully. 

“Good!” 

“It is bad. You did it to please me. It has 
done you no good, Mr. Perez.” 

“Then it is because my teacher is stupid; I 
have done my best.” 

“You will not understand,” she said, half vexed. 

“Then that is because I am stupid.” 

“ But we are to have no more lessons,” she 
persisted. 

“ I don’t care about the lessons ; come down to 


DOLLAR BILLS . 


391 


the apple tree. We will read to each other and 
call it fun instead of work; will that do?” 

“ But you do not see that I am sorry about the 
money.” Her eyes were swimming in tears. 

“I do see,” he answered gently, “ and we will 
never think of it again, if you say so.” 

Drawing something from her pocket she laid it 
in his hand; it was a roll consisting of seven one 
dollar bills. “ Will you take it back?” 

“ No ; for that will admit myself in the wrong.” 

“ Am I wrong then, and not you ?” 

“ Nobody is wrong. You are the dearest little 
goose that ever read French. Buy something for 
your grandfather with it and then neither of us 
will have it.” 

He put the roll into her hand and held her 
fingers over it. 

“ Perez ! ” 

Miss Jue’s sharp, astonished voice was behind 
them. 

“ If we are going Monday morning there’s 
something to do beside nonsense.” 

At that same instant the sound, “ Bel Hope !” 
came to them with grandfathers feeble impa- 
tience. 

Bel darted away, and Perez sauntered into the 


392 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


kitchen to hear the result of his cousin’s conference 
with his self-appointed housekeeper. 

Miss J ue seated herself upon the lowest step and 
fanned herself with her sun-bonnet. There was a 
life about this house that was not in her own home 
atmosphere. Perez threw off an oppressive some- 
thing with these people, and was more like him- 
self, or more unlike himself; and yet they were 
not wise, or holy, or different from other people. 
If they were natural, they were naturally disa- 
greeable, as well as agreeable. Mrs. Kellinger had 
moods of sauciness and fretfulness; and sometimes 
Isobel was sullen and sometimes sharp. Marietta 
was the most even one, and she often had an indif- 
ferent manner. No, it was not because of any un- 
usual excellence, it must be because they were 
their natural selves. Mrs. Kellinger was bewitch- 

ing, but the others were common place enough 

well ! and she sighed, and fanned herself and came 
to no definite conclusion. 

Prosper was in the house and Perez was in the 
house. She gained nothing by sitting still, or 
moving about, that she could see; and activity was 
sweeter than indolence. The sun bonnet was re- 
placed, and with a brisk step she started for home. 

Marietta finished her baking that morning with 


DOLLAR BILLS . 


393 


an absent-mindedness that spoiled grandfather’s 
blackberry pie ; the crust was burnt to a cinder. 

Strolling the fields together that evening in the 
twilight Prosper linked his arm within his cousin's 
and began to speak with an embarrassment that 
portended an important communication. His first 
sentences revealed nothing save his confusion. 

“They who think clearly speak clearly — as a 
rule,” observed Perez. 

“ I am thinking clearly enough,” was the half 
laughing response. “I am wondering what you 
will think of me if I tell you the truth.” 

“ That you are not a liar, at all events.” 

“You may think me fickle. That dream about 
Annie Pierrepont is over. I’ve been cured in the 
usual way. Old fellow, if I can, I will marry Isobel 
Kellinger! Don’t start so! I know it is ridicu- 
lous ; but I am not choosing a minister’s wife — I am 
choosing my wife ! She suits me, even if she will 
never be a help to. me, except by loving me; and 
that is a great deal to a man. It is all the help I 
want from a human source. She isn’t literary, or 
even intellectual, full of faults, impulsive ; but she 
is real , with a heart capable of devotion, and she is 
penitent and eager to do the truth as fast as she 
learns it. Childish even, but hers is a character 


394 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


that will grow in the sunshine of appreciation — 
humble and frank — ” 

“ Man alive ! What is the good of enumerat- 
ing: such a list of virtues? Can I not read her as 

o 

well as you ?” Perez burst out. 

“I think she is more childlike than childish — 
and her age will not make such a difference,” apol- 
ogized Prosper. 

u Age! that is nothing,” said Perez, furiously. 
“ What do you bring in her age for ?” 

His face was blanched and his eyes glittering, 
but Prospers short-sighted eyes were on the 
ground, and he did not notice the changes in his 
voice. 

“ I have not spoken to her. I can wait.” 

Wait he certainly must, was the mental com- 
ment of Perez. To speak one such word to her 
would be to make her a prisoner. 

“ Why do you wait ?” he asked, with harshness. 
“ If you are so bold as to begin, why not fight it 
out ?” 

“ I am almost sure — she is as transparant as a 
child! She is quick, she knows my feeling. I 
shall not speak — for awhile, at least. Do you con- 
gratulate me, old friend ?” 

“ Yes,” said Perez, still harshly, “ but I confess I 


DOLLAR BILLS. 


395 


am surprised. I thought you could not change 
so soon.” 

44 Oh, everybody will be surprised; I am prepared 
for that. She grows (as if I had to apologize for 
her), and with me, I speak in all humility, she will 
grow into all the woman I wish her to be.” 

44 Doubtless,” replied Perez, with a laugh. 44 The 
sun has set, it is rather gloomy, is it not ? Shall 
we turn homeward ?” 

44 As you please ; I could tramp on for hours.” 

44 Go on then; I have some work to do.” 

44 And I will run over and see Isobel.” 

With his head bent low and his hands in his 
pockets, Perez Dekker wandered about the rye 
field, staggering against a shock now and then, 
and then staggering on : it was dark when 
he stumbled into the hall. Anastasia was fervent 
in the kitchen, singing snatches of hymns, Jue sat 
at a window fanning herself; there were voices on 
the piazza opposite. Isobel was laughing, and then 
her mother’s voice rebuked her. Isobel, his Isobel ! 
And it was Prosper she cared for; no wonder, how 
could any young girl choose himself in preference ; 
he had been with her when she was homesick 
and lonely, and she spoke of him with such a light 
in her eyes; she had loved him before she came to 


t 


396 


I SOB ELS BETWEEN TIMES. 


America, before he had had opportunity to win 
her. Was that why the “lessons” had become 
tiresome? Apologizing for her! As well apolo- 
gize for the sweetness of the lily, or the cheer of 
the sunshine. Why might he not have kept his 
dream of Annie ? Why must he rob him ? 

How had he discovered her preference ? She 
was the shyest of maidens; but she did appeal 
oftener to him, and his words brought that bright 
look to her eyes. If Prosper had won her, there 
was no other woman in the world for himself ; his 
books should be his wife. He had kept himself 
under restraint, he had determined that no one 
should guess what that girl was becoming to him ; 
he would have been wiser had he been as bold as 
Prosper. But would there have been a chance for 
him with Prosper in the field? Her preference 
must have begun in those days in the Goodspeed. 
Could he stay and look on ? It was not yet too 
late; he would accept the work the University had 
offered him; a trip across the ocean would put the 
ocean between him and them and he would not be 
there to look on — the very thought made him sav- 
age ; how could Prosper know that he cared, that 
he was waiting until she felt at home with him — 
if the engagement had to be for years and years, 


DOLLAR BILLS. 


397 


Prosper would bind her with the promise of be- 
longing to him at last. She could no more belong 
to him than if she were already Prospers wife. 
She was steadfast and true; she would not even 
read French with Prospers cousin. 

In the old man’s lifetime Prosper could never 
woo her away. No wonder he had forgotten that 
wild little thing, Annie Pierrepont; they were as 
unlike as the tiger lily and the lily of the valley. 
He went in, lighted his lamp, wrote his letter of 
acceptance, then went to the door and called his 
man to take it to the mail. 

“ Jue,’ 1 he said, at bedtime, “ I intend to sail for 
Liverpool Wednesday. You will have to go to the 
seaside without me.” 

“ Of all things ! Perez Dekker ! When you told 
them you wouldn’t go.” 

“ And now I have told them I ivould. I suppose 
you can look oyer my things.” 

“ I suppose I can do anything 1 have to.” 

“ So can I. Good night, Jue. Tell Prosper Pve 
gone to bed.” 

a 0f all things ,” repeated Jue, again. “But I 
suppose I can go to the seaside alone ! And Mrs. 
Kellinger is crazy to go. I wonder what she 
wants to go for ? She has been a bird of passage 


398 


JSOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


so long that she can’t be easy in any one place. 
Anyway she’s good company.” 

Her brother’s “ things” were kept in perfect 
order. Half an hour’s notice would be sufficient 
for her packing. She did not altogether regret 
his decision. It would be a change to be with him 
again in the fall; but she was eager to know the 
spring of its suddenness. At the tea-table he had 
said he expected to rollick in the ocean, and that 
he had made out his list of books for summer read- 
ing. Had any one beside himself had anything to 
do with it ? She would ask Prosper. 


XXVI. 


ASLEEP. 

• 

‘ 4 Perez ! Perez !” called Prosper, in a jubilant 
voice, entering the sitting-room. 

“ He isn’t here,” said a displeased voice out of 
the moonlight. “ He has gone to bed.” 

“ That is sudden !” 

“ Everything is sudden to-night. He wrote a 
letter and sent it off and then I put out the light.” 

“ And you have been sitting here sentimentaliz- 
ing.” 

“ That is not in my line,” replied Miss Jue, dryly. 
“What is the news over the way? Something is 
always happening over there ! If grandfather is 
cross that is a happening; if Bel cries that is an- 
other; if Mrs. Kellinger makes a dress for Mari- 
etta, that is a great happening, and even that 
brown little bird herself has happenings. I never 
saw such a house. Somebody is in an excitement 
all the time,” she said, resentfully. 


(399) 


400 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“They are all alive, that is certain.” 

“Sit down. I want to ask you what makes 
Perez go off like a flash ?” 

“ To bed ? He said he had work to do.” 

“ To bed ! To Oxford again, or Canterbury, or 
London, or somewhere. Didn’t you know he ex- 
pects to sail Wednesday ?” 

“To sail — Wednesday!” he repeated, like a 
woman, and like a bewildered one. 

“ So you didn’t know it, either,” she replied, in 
a satisfied tone. “ I wonder if Bel knows it ?” 

“ I scarcely saw her. She was with her grand- 
father.” 

“And you were with the widow !” was the sar- 
castic retort. 

“I never think of her as that. She is too 
young.” 

“ Her dress urges it upon you all the time. I 
believe she wears it just to be bewitching.” 

“ Are you bewitched ?” 

“ More than I want to be. Is she going with us?” 

“ I wish you might have heard the talk between 
the sisters!” he said, with the laugh still in his 
voice. He seemed to be too much on the alert to 
keep quiet, he was moving about in the moon- 
light. 


ASLEEP. 


401 


“ Isobel said she would not go with you, and 
Marietta contended that she should. Isobel was 
cross and Marietta was sharp. Finally it was de- 
cided that Isobel should go for the month, as you 
had planned, and then Marietta is to come — to be 
my housekeeper.” 

Miss Jue’s breath seemed to be literally taken 
from her. 

She ejaculated a prolonged, “Well!” 

“ That is only another one of the happenings 
over there !” he said. 

“Well, I never! I never did! Whose work is 
that?” 

“ Mine, principally.” 

“The old man will never let her go.” 

“ She will go, nevertheless. Isobel is to be 
housekeeper.” 

“ That girl ! ’ said Miss Jue, scornfully. 

“Not the girl; the mother. I never think of the 
girl as Isobel. No one calls the daughter Isobel.” 

“Well, I suppose nobody does but Perez. He 
says the name belongs to her. We always call the 
mother Mrs. Kellinger.” 

“ The mother ! The sister, rather.” 

“They are like sisters, and they treat each other 

so. Bel said to her mother to-day, 4 Mamma, we 
26 


402 


ISOBEUS BETWEEN TIMES. 


are like sisters, only we love each other a great 
deal better. Perez going is not the only happen- 
ing to-night. Doesn’t anybody know it over 
there ?” she asked. 

“No more than I did. I have counted on this 
vacation with him; we were to be two boys to- 
gether.” 

“ There’s no counting on him, or on anybody, 
now-a-days. To confess the truth, Prosper, I am 
glad he is going; nothing could suit me better; I 
never liked those French lessons,” she continued, in 
a tone that became more and more confidential. 

“ She is only a child. Seventeen, or there- 
abouts.” 

“ But she is growing up.” 

“So are we all of us,” he laughed, “and growing 
old, beside.” 

“ That is no laughing matter,” said Miss Jue, 
sharply. 

“ It is a matter of congratulation to the Chinese, 
as the years go by, that one has been spared to add 
another to the term of life.” 

“ That is a heathen way of looking at it.” 

“ It strikes me as decidedly Christian.” 

“ Mrs. Kellinger wouldn’t tell her age for any- 
thing.” 


ASLEEP, 


403 


“ She told me to-night.” 

“ How old is she ?” 

“ Guess.” 

Miss J ue pursed up her lips to calculate. 

“ She looks thirty-five.” 

“ A woman is no older than she looks, somebody 
says. Thirty-five she is, then.” 

“ But she was married twenty years ago.” 

“ The salt air has kept her fresh. Does she 
look older than I do ?” 

“You always looked older than your years.” 

“Awhile ago I spent Sunday with a college 
friend and preached for him ; I knew he had mar- 
ried a woman twenty years older than himself, 
and I hated to go. Five children, too, she had. I 
refused, at first ; I knew it made trouble in his fam- 
ily; and I expected to see him broken down and 
miserable. But I went ; he was at a funeral and she 
received me. At the end of over two hours together 
I had determined to tell him that he was wise to 
brave the ridicule for her sake. She is the most 
charming woman I ever met; she looks her age — 
fifty, I suppose. She is devoted to him and to his 
work ; he is devoted to her and to her children ; he 
told me the whole parish loved her.” 

“ Is that a true story ?” 


404 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ I will take you to them and you shall judge for 
yourself.” 

“ What is the moral of it all ?” 

“ That when a man knows what he is about 
he does well to do it. When I left 1 said 
to him : 4 God, the best maker of marriages, bless 
you,’ and he wrung my hand, too touched to 
speak.” 

Miss Jue was touched, also. But God, the best 
maker of marriages, had not blessed her. 

“ HI run up and see what the old fellow 
means.” 

He ran up and tapped at the door, but the old 
fellow evidently meant nothing but sleep, for he 
was not bidden to enter; he pushed the door 
open; there was no motion in the bed; he went 
to the bed-side and laid his hand upon the black 
head. 

u Perez, old fellow,” he said, softly. 

No movement, no reply. 

“ There’s another day,” said Prosper, as he left 
the room. 

In the narrow stairway he met Miss Jue coming 
up with a glass of water in her hand. 

“ Prosper,” she whispered, u do you think Bel 
has had anything to do with his going ?” 


ASLEEP. 


405 


Standing above her, he looked down with a spar- 
kle in his eyes she could not detect: “ Cousin Jue, 
it is said of some wise man, that he could be silent 
in ten languages; let us be silent in one.’’ 

“ If she will keep still in French !” she muttered. 


XXVII. 


IH THE SHED A HD OH THE PIAZZA. 

“ I must have my good times. I would die if I 
did not,” sobbed Isobel, with a choking little sob. 
Then she brushed the tears out of her eyes and 
lifted herself up, and her eyes flashed with indig- 
nant light. 

She was bending over the stove in the shed, stir- 
ring grandfather’s evening cup of cocoa. 

It was Monday evening, and Perez Dekker had 
crossed the street to say a hurried good-bye to 
them all. Early in the morning he was going to 
New York, and the next day would sail for Liver- 
pool ; planning to spend the long vacation in Eng- 
land and Germany. There had been a whisper of 
it before ; but she thought he had decided not to 
go; all Sunday she had not seen him to speak 
to him, and on Monday morning he had driven 
away with Mr. Prosper, and had not returned until 
dusk. She had been cross all day, and once had 

spoken sharply to poor grandpapa. 

( 406 ) 


IN THE SHED AND ON THE PIAZZA . 407 


Ten minutes ago he had come into the shed to 
find her and to say that he had but two minutes to 
stay. 

“ It was hardly worth while for you to come at 
all, Mr. Perez,*’ she had answered, proudly. 

“I thought so myself. But I decided to come. 
I wanted to wish you a happy summer.” 

“ Thanks, monsieur,” with the slightest possible 
touch of sarcasm. 

u I decided to go in great haste, but I do not re- 
gret it.” 

“ Why should you, if your work calls you ?” 

Her work busied her just then, for the pot of 
cocoa was boiling over. 

“ Jue will write me all the news. I hope to hear 
good new's of my little Trench teacher.” 

“ There will be nothing to hear,” she answered, 
quietly, “ I shall go on in that horrid, dry old 
way.” 

Had he said, “ You will write me all the news ?” 
would she care to write to him ? Oh, how she 
would look forward to his letters ! Would they 
be like his charming, sincere, comical talk ? But 
he had not promised to write her, he had only 
asked her to write to him; and slie w r ould not 
promise. He must ask her again. 


408 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“You will often see my cousin,” he said, watch- 
ing the flushed face bent over the cocoa pot. 

“ Mr. Prosper ! I hope so.” 

He extended his hand. She gave her own with 
unusual shyness, and immediately withdrew it. 
He thought she did not touch his fingers. 

“ Good-bye, Isobel.” 

“ Good-bye, Mr. Perez,” she returned, lightly. 

She was stirring the cocoa. She did not lift her 
eyes until he passed through the doorway into the 
kitchen : and then a wave of bitterest disappoint- 
ment swept over heart and mind and soul. How 
she had looked forward to “ good times ” in this 
long vacation. 

And now the sun would not shine for her until 
he came back to her again. In an instant it was 
revealed to her how all her happiness had de- 
pended upon his coming, or promising to come. 
Every morning she had watched at the window to 
see him on the piazza ; and every evening she was 
stationed there awaiting his return. The eyes 
were sure to be turned toward her, the hat was 
sure to be lifted, and then — it was nothing, it was 
only himself near her ; but that was all she cared 
to have. 

Was he displeased with her ? Was it because 


IN THE SHED AND ON THE PIAZZA . 409 


she had spoken so about the lessons? Was it be- 
cause she had laid that money in his hand ? Had 
she made him the more displeased by not promis- 
ing to write ? But he was so constrained and 
cold. He had never been like that before. 

“ Child ! What’s burning ? Oh, that cocoa !” 

With a quick motion Mrs. Kellinger pushed the 
cocoa pot back on the stove. 

“ Run to grandfather. I’ll bring it in.” 

Grandfather was thumping as usual, when she 
overstayed her time. His small clock was on the 
table. He had given her fifteen minutes to be 
away, and it was seventeen when he began to 
thump; he told himself that he was very forbear- 
ing. She had such a careless way of loitering ; all 
day to-day she had been absent-minded and had 
done nothing yesterday, either, but stand at the 
window. Marietta said she looked pale, but why 
should a girl that had nothing to do look pale ? 

“ I wanted to know if my cocoa is done ?” he said, 
in a tone of high displeasure, when she appeared 
and stood before him, as if awaiting orders. 

“ I was about bringing it,” she said with unusual 
humility. 

“Be about it, then.” 

He was becoming irritable and moody, and with 


410 


ISOBEUS BETWEEN TIMES. 


his moodiness more than ever suspicious and jeal- 
ous; the roughness in his tone of command was 
something new. He had not forgiven Perez Dek- 
ker for saying that he could not go across the sea 
without a good-bye to his little friend. 

u I hope he’ll stay there,” he muttered, as “ the 
little friend ” moved obediently away. 

After contentedly sipping his cocoa, he leaned 
back and fell into a doze. Bel sat motionless on a 
hassock at his side, her head resting on the arm of 
his chair; her eyes were dull and she was quiver- 
ing as if suffering physical pain. Something re- 
minded her of those days in Shields when she lay 
so still and had but one thought — that mamma 
was not her mother. 

It was like those days — she had lost something. 
Mamma had come back dearer than ever ; and she 
never even wished for her own mother; but this 
could not end like that. It was ended now, be- 
cause if he cared for her at all, as she cared for 
him, he would not leave her like that ; he would 
say or do some little thing; he could not be so cold 
and so hard. 

“ They are both asleep,” cried Aunt Marie’s voice : 
“ the two children !” Aunt Marie looked in and 
then whisked away. 


IN THE SHED AND ON THE PIAZZA. 


411 


There were other voices on the piazza. Her 
mother’s low and light, intermingling her langh 
with the deep and serious voice. 

“ He is a pusher,” Prosper Dekker was saying. 

“ His pushing is not apparent enough to make 
people uncomfortable.” 

“ People have to be made uncomfortable,” was 
the reply, with strong emphasis. 

“ I know you believe in it,” with grave sauciness. 

“ He is the most determined person in his mind 
and the least in his manner that I know. I never 
think of urging him to change his plans.” 

“ Why should you ?” with indignant remon- 
strance. 

“They spoil mine — as now. There is but one 
thing in the world for him to do; his work, and 
himself is the only person, and now is the only 
time.” 

“ That is grand. I like it,” in her enthusiastic 
style. 

“ You wish I were like him ?” 

“You are. I was thinking that you were de- 
scribing your own self.” 

“ Do you know that you are a rest to me ?” with 
a dangerous fondness in the lowered tone. 

“ Because I am so silly ?” 


412 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“Yes, if you will put it that way. The things 
of this life are a great rest and refreshment to me; 
the mental part of us cannot bear the unceasing 
strain of stretching after heavenly things. I 
remember, one day, after a long talk on post- 
mortem probation with Perez, what a delight it 
was to come back to some trifling question of the 
day.” 

“Just as after the last sermon of yours in that 
English magazine, I was glad to come back to pat- 
terns and dressmaking.” 

“Did the sermon hinder the dressmaking?” 

“ No, it helped it. That is why I understand 
how my light mind is a rest to you. You do not 
have to think to talk to me.” 

“ I have to feel , and perhaps that is more weari- 
some.” 

“ Don’t then,” she laughed; “ I didn’t know you 
could talk nonsense.” 

“If I couldn’t, I couldn’t talk sense.” 

“ I don’t understand that.” 

“ Grow to it.” 

“ I do not grow — like Bel.” 

“I do not wish you to grow like Bel.” 

Again the low laugh. Bel had not listened to 
the words. 


IN THE SHED AND ON THE PIAZZA . 413 


“ I am so glad — that I may grow at all, that it 
isn’t too late.” 

“ It is never too late — not till the last breath.” 

“ Is it then ?” 

“ The door is shut then. It is too late to enter 
into the kingdom,” with a voice as grave as if no 
lightness were ever a part of it. 

“ Mr. Dekker, I wish I could pray for my hus- 
band,” said Mrs. Kellinger, after a long pause. 

“ Did you ever pray for him ?” 

“ Never — I think. I do not know. I told you 
I never used to pray at all.” 

“An aged man, as old as Mr. Devoe, told me 
that he prayed in his childhood and up to the age 
of freedom — twenty-one, and that he had not 
prayed since.” 

“ I thought that what one was in childhood de- 
termined the character — that doesn’t look like it.” 

“ It only proves that it was never real prayer. 
It was simply a form that he cast off, as George 
Eliot and Harriet Martineau cast off their form of 
religious faith. They saw through its hollowness, 
and no wonder, and they never saw faith in its 
genuineness and simplicity.” 

“ I did not until I saw it in you.” 

“ When did you see it in me ?” 


414 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


“Do you remember that day in Shields you 
called to see Bel, and I saw you first down-stairs ? 
Don’t you remember how you talked to me ?” 

“I was very rude, no doubt.” 

“ I thought you unpardonably so. You fright- 
ened me to death. I said in my thoughtless way: 
4 Oh, I am a great sinner,’ and you said : 4 Do you 
really believe that you are a great sinner ?’ and I 
said: 4 Of course I do.’ What else could 1 say ? I 
w 7 as just thinking how hard I had been to poor lit- 
tle Bel. And you asked me what I was going to 
do about it, and I said I didn’t expect to do any- 
thing; and you said, fixing your solemn eyes on 
me: 4 God will do something if you do not.’ How 
many nights that frightened me !” 

44 And has he not done something?” 

44 Yes,” she answered, softly, “he has forgiven 
me.” 

44 1 meant that he would forgive you or punish 
you.” 

44 He has punished me.” 

44 That he might forgive you.” 

Bel raised her head and caught these words: 
44 How does punishment come that forgiveness may 
come afterward ?” 

Was she punished now for neglecting grand- 


IN THE SHED AND ON THE PIAZZA . 415 


papa? But because he took care of her body, 
had he a right to her soul? Could she not think of 
anybody beside ? Oh, how angry he would be if 
he knew her thoughts ! 

“ What have I been doing to-day?” said one of 
the voices outside the window; “ before breakfast 
I read an article entitled: ‘Was St. Peter ever at 
Rome ?’ and it was proved that he never was.” 

“ What difference does it make to anybody ? ” 

“ It makes a difference to the Papists;” they 
claim that he was in the city in the year 42 ; that 
he held the pontificate of Rome twenty-five years, 
and became a martyr under Nero in the year 66.” 

“How do they prove that isn’t true ?” she asked, 
with some interest. 

“ Wouldn’t you think me stupid if I should go 
through all the reasoning ?” 

“ I believe I ivould rather take your word for it,” 
she said, laughing. “ But I am interested in Rome, 
and can prove that I was there in 1865.” 

How happy her mother was to-night ! Bel list- 
ened in spite of herself. 

“ You would rather hear about artificial diges- 
tion, wouldn’t you ? Think of putting — I will not 
tell you what — into a bottle with half an ounce of 
water, and adding half a drachm of hard boiled 


416 


I SO BE US BETWEEN TIMES. 


egg chopped small, and then standing it in a warm 
place at the temperature of from one hundred to 
one hundred and ten degrees, and watch the diges- 
tion; it should be perfect in two hours.” 

“ I thought hard-boiled eggs were indigestible.” 

“ An old parishioner of mine, over ninety, used 
to take a hard-boiled egg and a cup of coffee late 
at night to cure his dyspepsia.” 

The amused laugh hurt Bel; how could her 
mother be so light; did nobody care that her 
heart was breaking ? Had her mother so soon for- 
gotten her own trouble ? 

“ Bel Hope,” cried the half-awakened voice, “ are 
you there ?” 

“Well, grandpapa, dear?” 

“ Are we all in the dark ?” 

“ In the moonlight.” 

“ I was dreaming about your mother; your 
grandmother, I mean.” 


XXVIII. 


TRUE. 

The voices on the piazza ceased. Mrs. Kellinger 
came in with a white, fleecy something on her 
head. “Why, folkses, are yon all asleep and dream- 
ing ?” 

The gate opposite swung to ; Bel sprang to her 
feet ; was he coming again to say good-bye, and to 
ask her to write, and to explain why he had been 
so sharp and constrained ? 

Coming in with a lamp in her hand, as the light 
fell over the girl’s startled face, Marietta exclaim- 
ed : “ Bel, what ails you ? Have you seen a ghost ?” 

But no footsteps followed the swinging of the 
gate; the lamp was set down on the table in the 
bay window, and Aunt Marie settled herself to 
sew ; her mother ran lightly up-stairs, grandpapa 
blinked in the lamp light; every thing was going 
on as usual; everything would go on as usual 

for ages and ages. 

27 


( 417 ) 


418 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


The gate swung to after Prosper Dekker; he 
stepped upon the piazza as Perez appeared from 
the far end of it; a black figure in the moonlight, 
with its head bent forward. 

44 Why didn’t you come over for your last even- 
ing, old fellow ?” 

44 1 had something else to do.” 

44 The house was as still as a mouse, not a light 
inside ; and Isobel and I had our conference on the 
piazza. I proposed a moonlight walk, but she 
was not disposed. We shall have the moonlight 
on the water before the moon rises too late.” 

44 Is she going ? How have you brought her 
grandfather around?” 

44 Her grandfather ! What do you mean ? Man,’ 
stepping up to Perez, and laying his hand on his 
arm: 44 have you thought all this time I meant 
Bel? Didn’t you know I meant Isobel, the 
mother ?” 

What Perez had thought, he did not reveal. He 
pushed his companion backward and rushed past 
him, out from the shaded piazza, down the path to 
the gate. Again the gate swung to, and this time 
Perez was on the wooden steps in the green bank. 
The second gate was opened; with less impulse he 
walked slowly towards the house. The sitting- 


TRUE. 


419 


room windows -were lighted, and Bel’s voice, not 
Isobel’s, was singing one of the simple songs the 
old man liked. 

For an hour he passed up and down the path, 
leading from the gate around to the kitchen door. 
A figure in shirt sleeves crowned with a broad 
straw hat leaped over the fence at the foot of the 
lawn, hurried up to the steps, and ran up to the 
hall door. 

“ Sam is late to-night,” Mrs. Kellinger’s voice 
had remarked in the hall. 

In a moment she would be free. He would in- 
tercept her as she passed into the hall. He could 
not leave her without another good-bye. Would 
she be as shy as she was four hours ago ? 

There was a step on the piazza now, but the 
dress was black and the head was dark. Emerg- 
ing from the shadow, he called softly: 

“Mrs. Kellinger.” 

She stepped to the railing and looked around. 

“ Mr. Perez ! How you startled me ! Is any 
one ill V 

‘Excuse me,” he said, running up the steps, 
“ but I must see Isobel again, if I may.” 

“ Surely you may. I think she is in the sitting- 
room. Grandfather has retired.” 


420 


ISO BEES BETWEEN TIMES. 


“May I say what I please to her ?” 

“You may say anything’ she pleases to hear; but 
be careful. If you startle her she will be afraid 
of you. She is such a child.” 

u I will not startle her. I did not know you had 
penetrated — ” 

“ Trust a mother for that,” she returned, with 
assumed lightness. 

“Tell me, do you think she cares for me ?” 

“ I know she does,” with strong assurance. “ But 
I doubt if she knows it. I think she minds your 
sudden going.” 

After going to her grandfather’s bedside to kiss 
him good-night and to ask if he would like to have 
her sit there and fan him until he fell asleep, with 
slow steps she returned to the arm-chair in the 
bay window: shrinking into herself as she drew 
herself down into it, and shading her eyes from the 
light with the English magazine she had read that 
afternoon and laid on the broad arm of the chair; 
for several minutes she sat absorbed in her own 
thoughts, unaware of another presence in the room. 
A movement somewhere caused her to drop the 
hand holding the magazine. 

“ Mr. Perez,” she uttered, in slow surprise. 

“ I should think you would be surprised,” ho 


TRUE. 


421 


said, coming to her and speaking low. “ I was a 
bear this afternoon. I have come to beg your 
pardon.” 

“ Was I a bear too T she asked, the color rush- 
ing to cheek and brow. 

“You were a timid little puss.” 

The hand was lifted again to shield her eyes. 

“ I misunderstood. I thought you did not care 
whether I went or stayed.” 

He could not see the shielded, laughing eyes ; 
but the voice was merry enough to set his heart at 
rest. 

“ How do you know you misunderstood ?” 

With that he caught her hand, tossed away the 
intercepting magazine, and looked straight down 
into the uplifted eyes. 

“ Isobel, will you be my wife some day ?” 

His words startled himself ; they surely uttered 
themselves of their own will and not of his will. 

“ No ;” with grave voice and grave eyes: “ I must 
stay always and be a comfort to grandpapa.” 

“ Is that the only reason ?” he asked, catching 
the other hand and holding both in both his own. 
“ You are my prisoner, you shall not go until you 
answer me.” 

Her head drooped until it touched his hands. 


422 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“You must come of your own free will; you 
may take your hands away if you choose.” 

Her fingers moved, the hands were half with- 
drawn, then pushed into the strong clasp again. 

“ Bel Hope !” Bel Hope !” called the thick impa- 
tient voice from the next room, 44 Is somebody in 
there with you ?” 

“ I will see you in the morning,” Perez whisper- 
ed, lifting the hands that had answered him to his 
heart’s content to his lips and then kissing brow 
and cheek. “ My little Isobel, I will be very good 
to you.” 

44 Bel Hope ! Bel Hope ! Is somebody in there ?” 

Moved by something within herself too strong 
to be resisted, Bel Hope walked straight in to her 
grandfather’s bedside. 

“Grandpapa, dear; I will never deceive you like 
my mother; Mr. Perez has asked me to be his wife 
some day, and I could not help saying 4 yes.’ But 
I will never go away from you as long as you live.” 

A burst of groans and tears was the only re- 
sponse; when he found a voice to speak he cried: 
44 1 knew it! I knew it all along, and I tried to do 
my best.” 

“Yes, grandpapa, dear,” caressing his cheek as 
she would a child, 44 and I have tried to do my best, 


TRUE. 


423 


and I always will. I will never go away from you. 
Do you believe me ?” 

“ No, no, no, he said chokingly, “ I don’t believe 
anybody.” 

Throwing herself upon her knees, she laid her 
head beside the white head on the pillow: “Grand- 
papa, think a minute ! Could I deceive you if I 
wanted to ? Did I have to come and tell you this ? 
I chose to come because I desire to be true and to 
be a comfort to you.” 

“ But I don’t know what you will do next !” he 
groaned, helplessly. 

“You will see. I shall do every day just as I 
have done !” 

“I wish I could believe it,” he moaned; “you 
have broken my heart as your mother did.” 

He kept her hand and would not let her go, ask- 
ing her again and again to promise that she would 
not run away from him. She stayed beside him 
until he slept, and then in his uneasy slumber he 
burst into sighs and groans. It was hours before 
she slept; her last thought sleeping, and her first 
thought awaking was the same: “ I have not done 
as poor mamma did.” 


XXIX. 


FURS. 

To Miss Jue’s great annoyance Mrs. Kellinger 
refused to go with her to the sea side unless she 
might take board somewhere along the shore. 

“ We can see each other every day, Miss Jue.” 

“ But I want somebody in the house with me; I 
know Prosper, he will stay in his study or wander 
off by himself.” 

But Mrs. Kellinger was firm, so firm that, at 
last, she decided to remain at home. 

“ Has anything happened ? Something is al- 
ways happening over here ?” 

“ Grandfather isn’t so well, and — Marietta is go- 
ing so soon — and — ” 

“Then I won’t go myself! I don’t see why 
other people’s plans have to disarrange me, but 
they always do. Perez is gone, and you wont go ! 
I’ll stay and work in my garden. I .don’t believe 

Prosper will go either.” 

( 424 ) 


FURS, 


425 


To nobody’s surprise Prosper did not go; he 
said he was waiting for his housekeeper. He 
waited until September, when Perez returned. The 
second week in September he took Marietta and 
went his way. Her first letter to her sister stated 
that her cup was full; she had nothing to ask. 
The handmaiden was quick and willing; the house 
was convenient and she had time to herself; too 
much time, for Mr. Prosper would be away Sun- 
days almost all winter, and probably weeks at a 
time; for he was to do a “new kind of work,” and 
preach wherever he was sent for; she felt, at last, 
that she was in the place where she was meant to 
be. 

“ A rolling stone gathers no moss,” was grand- 
father’s comment, when the letter was read aloud. 
“ Can’t he get a call to one place ?” 

“ Not when he has a call to so many,” said Mrs. 
Kellinger. “ He told me about his new work last 
summer.” 

Grandfather was not able to leave his room this 
winter. All day he sat by the fire and at night 
was lifted into bed. 

Sam Watts and his wife took up their abode in 
the house. Mrs. Kellinger said she did not feel 
u safe” unless he were within call. 


426 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ I ain’t never been baptized,” be said one day, 
in midwinter. 

“ Neither have I,” said Mrs. Kellinger. 

“ But I want to be and you don’t.” 

She smiled and did not contradict him. 

“ It aint safe to put it off at my age.” 

“ Grandfather, you know — that isn’t all.” 

4 4 Of course it aint all ! Do you suppose I sit 
here and think and have Bel Hope read to me, and 
then believe water on my head and a minister say- 
ing words over me can make it all right ?” 

“ But you never talk — ” 

“ I a i n t the talking kind. I know what to talk, 
but I don’t know how. Marietta said once the 
Lord was merciful only to sinners and I w r anted 
to be a sinner after that ! I didn’t think I was be- 
fore. 1 have forgiven everybody, I aint no grudge 
against Kellinger, not that he did right, though. 
It was dreadful to hate the dead. I want you to 
write to Marietta to tell Prosper Dekker to come 
and baptize me. And he’s got to baptize Bel 
Hope. It ought to have been done before, and I 
want to see it done with my own eyes. I asked her 
if she was a sinner, and she said yes; and a forgiv- 
en sinner, and she said she wanted to be. Her sins 
aint like mine, but the whitest heart down here 


FURS. 


427 


looks black up there. I’ve learnt that sitting and 
thinking and laying awake of nights. It is a 
blessed good thing for a man to have a thinking 
time at the end of his days.’’ 

That afternoon he asked Bel if her mother had 
written to Prosper Dekker, and when she replied 
that Sam had taken the letter to the mail, he look- 
ed pleased; and, after a quiet hour, asked her to 
read 44 something good.” 

44 How good ?” Bel inquired. 

“ Something to help me to be ready,” he said. 

After a moment’s thinking, she exclaimed joy- 
fully : 44 0, grandpapa, I know,” and ran joyfully 

up-stairs for her treasure ; the book she had loved 
so well upon the Goodspeed. Like a child, the 
old man drank in every word, and the next day 
and the next asked to have read again the 
chapter headed : 4 Why should we come to the Sup- 
per ? ’ 

Sitting at the window with her sewing, Mrs. 
Kellinger listened. 44 We should come,” read Iso- 
bel, sitting at her grandfather’s side, with his hand 
in hers, 44 because the Lord Jesus commands us to 
come. To all who love him he says: 4 Do this 
in remembrance of me.’ In another place he says: 
4 If ye love me keep my commandments.’ 


428 


IS OB E VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ You know it is not very hard to obey those 
whom we love. 

“ We should come because it is profitable for us; 
it will surely do us good if we come in the right 
way. Do you ask what good it can do us ? I will 
try to tell you. 

“ Our hearts are worldly, our memories are poor, 
our love is changeable, we are actually in danger 
of forgetting Christ and his great love. The feast 
is, as you have already learned, to remind us of 
Christ. Here at the table everything speaks to 
us of our crucified Saviour. When we look upon 
the bread we think of his body broken for us, and 
the wine poured out makes us think of his precious 
blood shed for us. 

“We are reminded of the cross with the suffer- 
ing Saviour stretched upon it. We remember that 
our sins caused his suffering. 

“ Yes, our sins, for we are sinners, and sin must 
be punished, so God punished Christ in our place. 
4 He bore our sins, (that is the punishment of them) 
in his own body on the tree.’ 

“ Think how great was the love of God the 
Father to be willing to let his dear Son suffer in 
our stead. And how great was the love of God 
the Son to be willing to suffer. When we remem- 


FURS. 


429 


ber all this I think it will lead us back to Christ if 
we have wandered away. And after each Com- 
munion it seems as if we could not help loving 
Christ more. 

“If it has this effect, surely you can see what 
good the feast will do us. For our greatest need 
is more love to the Lord Jesus.” 

“ Did Prosper Dekker write that ? ” inquired 
Grandfather. 

“ 0 no,” said Bel, “ he only gave me the book. 
A lady wrote it.” 

“ It’s good enough to be him.” 

“ It reminds me of him,” said Mrs. Kellenger. 

“ His life makes it all the more true to me,” said 
Bel. 

“ Go on,” said Grandfather, “ and read as slow as 
you can.” 

“ And then in getting acquainted with Christ 
at these feasts. Satan would like it better if Christ 
always seemed to us as one very distant ; as a 
great God far off in Heaven, and as one whom we 
must fear. But Christ would have us look upon 
Him as a very near and dear friend, whose heart 
is full of love to us, and who is willing always to 
hear and help us.” 

A gentle rap at the sitting-room door caused the 


430 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


leaves to flutter in Bel’s fingers; the step upon the 
sitting-room carpet brought the reading to a 
pause. 

“ Go on,” urged grandfather, impatiently. 

“ Some one has come,” said Bel. 

“ Isobel, go and see,” commanded the old man. 

u It is Perez,” said Mrs. Kellenger, catching a 
glimpse of him through the open door. u I will 
read, grandfather, if you will let Bel go.” 

As her sewing slipped from her hands she came 
forward to take the book. Bel half arose and 
looked undecided. 

“ May he not come in here ?” 

“ No,” exclaimed the old man, with loud impa- 
tience, “ he is always a interrupting. Let him go 
home again.” 

“Let Bel see him first,” suggested Mrs. Kellen- 
ger, taking the b<3ok from Bel’s fingers, “ Go, and I 
will read.” 

With the uneasy feeling that she was “ neglect- 
ing grandpapa,” she arose and lingered. 

“ 1 11 be back soon, grandpapa, dear.” 

Perez was moving up and down in the sitting- 
room; through the bay window Bel caught gleams 
of the sunset on the snow. 

“ Hurry, Isobel; we have time for a sleigh ride 


FURS . 


431 


before the sun is down ; the moon will soon be up. 
It is glorious ; the air is still and sharp ; you need 
to get some color in your cheeks. ” 

Taking her into his arms he looked down into 
her face. 

“ This is the first time I have seen you to-day. 
Where were you this morning when my bells 
jingled past ? ” 

“ In the kitchen, making ginger tea,” she 
answered. 

“ Put on your wraps, and Frisk shall show you 
what he can do for us.” 

The brightened face looked doubtful. “But, 
Perez, you took me last night. How can I go 
again ? ” 

“ Put on your things and I will show you. Run 
along, Puss.” 

“Bel Hope! Bel Hope!” 

Perez uttered an exclamation of strong impa- 
tience. 

“ I wish he would forget your name.” 

“He does sometimes. He calls me ‘Hope’ a 
great deal.” 

“He shall not interfere with my rights. No 
man shall.” 

Bel moved away with the usual heartache ; one 


432 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


of them must be displeased with her; last night it 
was grandpapa ; must it be Perez to-night ? 

“ I wonder how it would feel to have a good 
time all good,” she said to herself. 

“ Please hurry, Bel,” urged Perez, with forced 
patience. “You stand as still as though the sun 
were standing still.” 

Giving him a bright glance she went in to 
Grandfather; his head had fallen forward, he was 
fast asleep. 

Dancing back to Perez, she cried: “It is too 
good; he’s asleep. Mamma will keep him amused 
if he should awake.” 

Her Christmas gift from him, her fur cloak and 
blue velvet turban trimmed with fur to match, 
were soon donned and she ran radiant out to the 
sleigh. 

“I bought this sleigh for you, Puss; do you 
think I mean to let you stay in that hot room all 
this winter ? ” 

She stooped for snow to toss at him, but, divin- 
ing her intention, he caught her in his arms, and 
ran down the bank with her and deposited the 
struggling, laughing bundle of fur among the 
robes of the sleigh. 

“ I will show you a frozen river. I regret this 


FURS, 


433 


higher temperature; I would like to keep the 
thermometer below zero all winter.” 

44 Please do, for my sake.” 

“ Prosper’s coming next week for the skating. 
You must go, too. I will get skates for you. 
Annie Pierrepont shoots over the ice like a bird.” 

44 Will she come? ” 

44 Prosper has no right to bring her ; are you for- 
getting ?” 

44 1 never give that up ; it seems one of the right 
things; one of the beautiful things; she will love 
all the better after she has grown up to it.” 

44 Do girls have to do that ?” 

44 They have to grow up to everything ,” she said, 
earnestly. 44 You know I had to grow up to you, 
and I am only half way up now.” 

44 Just up to my lips,” he retorted; 44 don’t you 
dare to get any higher.” 

44 Oh, do you remember how you laughed at me be- 
cause when you asked me if the Indians rode in the 
cars in New York city with the white people, I indig- 
nantly said they ought to! I thought there might 
be whole tribes in New York and Philadelphia.” 

44 You don’t know much better now, little child.” 

44 Only enough better,” was the laughing re- 
partee. 


28 


XXX. 

IN THE WINDOW SEAT. 

The parlor, or drawing-room, or study, or family 
room at Mr. Prosper Dekker’s farm-house was cosy 
in winter and green and cool in summer ; the house- 
keeper had made few changes and these few were 
in beeping with the old fashions ; she liked to call 
it the “family room,” when the master was at 
home, and she took her sewing to sit at the other 
side of the fire-place while he read or wrote; he 
came home to rest, but the rest was ever with 
pen or book in hand. He told her that he had 
never worked so hard in his life. 

The low ceiled, deep-windowed room was green 
with the huge jar of ferns in the open fire-place, 
and sweet with the bunches of pennyroyal Mari- 
etta had placed on the writing-table and the man- 
tel one August afternoon, when two ladies sat 
awaiting the appearance of the master of this old- 

fashioned household. 

.( 434 ) 


IN THE WINDOW SEAT 


435 


The maiden who ushered them in was sleepy- 
eyed and wide mouthed, uncouth in dress and 
manner, but the little lady who had flitted through 
the hall with whitened hair and dress of choco- 
late calico, prettily made, was another sort of be- 
ing; she had disappeared up the stairway after 
speaking to the servant. 

“Did you say that Mr. Dekker would not be 
home for half an hour ?” the little lady had said to 
the uncouth handmaiden. 

The young lady looked at the elderly lady. 
u Mamma, who is she ? Prospers fairy god- 
mother ?” 

u She seems a part of the past. Annie, it is 
three years since we spent the summer here w r ith 
those old people.” 

Annie Pierrepont did not need to be reminded ; 
was it not in this very room, perched up on this 
very window seat where she was sitting now, that 
Prosper Dekker had startled her even into tears 
by asking her to become his dear little wife when 
he returned from his search after health. 

He had returned, and the search was successful, 
and she was not his dear little wife ; she was nine- 
teen, and older and wiser, and she had never seen 
any one like him, and how she had missed him ! 


436 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES . 


Fred Graham was fun for a drive or an evening’s 
nonsense, and young Dr. Wharton was handsome, 
(Prosper was not one bit handsome) and that rich 
old man at Florence had promised her all the 
world could give; but somehow, she had kept in 
her mind a picture of this quaint room and herself 
stealing in to read the novel Prosper had said she 
must not read, and a picture of him standing be- 
fore her as she hid the book behind her and laugh- 
ed; she had expected a sharp reprimand, but he 
had not seemed to notice the book; he stood and 
looked at her as if he were not seeing her at all, 
and then he spoke of going away and wondered if 
she would miss him, and then he said— how often 
she had repeated the words since that time in Flor- 
ence when he had given her up, and broken his 
own promise so that she might not have to break 
hers. 

She was older now, she was nineteen, mamma 
was married at nineteen, and even if Prosper was 
so old, and she had known him all her life, and 
even if he were so different, so good and learned, 
she could learn to be good and she could learn to 
read some of his books. She would learn any hard 
thing for his sake. 

Annie Pierrepont was an exquisite little crea- 


IN THE WINDOW SEAT. 


437 


ture ; Prosper had never seen any one like her — 
outside of a book, and she was not spoiled, she 
was as simple hearted as Isobel who had never 
been flattered, and who had never ha_d her own 
way. 

Annie Pierrepont had had her own way to-day. 

“ Mamma, we have been here two days and 
Prosper has not called,” she said that afternoon. “ I 
am certain he has received my note. I thought 
he would be here as soon as we were.” 

As she spoke she opened the window and step- 
ped out on the long third story balcony of the 
great hotel on the shore. 

“ I thought I wanted to stay a month ; but I 
don’t think I care. I like that old farm house 
better, even if we can’t see the water. We can 
drive every day.” 

“ But Annie, those old people are not there; 
Prosper has purchased the place and is keeping 
house; you surely do not intend to visit him ? 

“ But he has a housekeeper, I suppose, and 
there is room for us.” 

“ There may not be room — now. Are you for- 
getting ?” 

“ I am remembering, and that is why I wish to 


go. 


438 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES . 


She stood a long time on the balcony, leaning on 
the rail, gazing at the sunshine on the waves and 
‘‘remembering.” 

k ‘ Mamma, I am going there ! This afternoon. 
I want to see that room again ! And that queer 
garden. Will you order a carriage ?” 

“Annie Pierrepont! When he has not come to 
you !” 

“ I am not going to him ; I am going to that 
house. He may not be at home. You know he 
goes everywhere now.” 

“ Annie, I know you are a silly child.” 

“And I know you are a darling mother and will 
take me.” 

Mrs. Pierrepont fidgeted and listened; she was 
not at all glad that she had brought Annie ; she 
was not pleased with her attitude, or her silence ; 
was the child regretting ? Who knew that it 
might not be too late ? 

Was Prosper Dekker the man to forget ? She 
had assured him that her indecision was the ca- 
price of a child; that Annie would know her own 
mind by-and-by. 

“ Mamma, I am going to look around.” 

“ Shall I go, too ?” 


IN THE WINDOW SEAT. 


439 


44 No. I want to go alone.” 

44 To the garden ?” 

44 No. I want to see that queer-shaped little 
room under the roof I used to have.” 

44 Xou must ask some one — ” 

44 In Prospers house ? Bidiculous!” 

She had removed her gloves; she threw aside 
her hat, and after giving her mother a shy kiss, as 
if asking her benediction, she went away. 

If she could find Prosper and surprise him, she 
would know by his first look if he were glad — as 
glad as she was. And she would say, 44 Forgive 
me,” and he would forgive her. 

A door stood open at the end of the square entry. 
Up the seven steps past this door was her queer 
room under the roof; nobody could be there, now; 
who could? 

With a smile at her own audacity, she ran up 
the seven steps. Another door stood open and 
somebody was there. A lady, tall and very slight, 
dressed in black with tuberoses in her belt. The 
lady turned at the sound of the footsteps, and the 
girl stood ashamed and confused. 

44 1 beg your pardon. I had no thought of in- 
truding.” 

The lady — how handsome she was — Annie felt 


440 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


the fascination of her presence as she had felt the 
fascination of certain paintings. The lady smiled 
and asked her to come and see the room, if it were 
worth seeing. 

“That is what I came for,” said Annie, instantly 
recovering her self-possession. “ I am Annie 
Pierrepont, and I spent one summer here, three 
years ago.” 

“And this was your room, as it is mine.” 

“ It is prettier now,” Annie said, stepping inside. 
“ It is changed.” 

u Mr. Dekker has made several changes.” 

Then she asked, shyly, 

“ Will he soon be in ?” 

“ He is driving in now. He started out intend- 
ing to call at your hotel. He received your note 
this morning.” 

Annie Pierrepont was too well-bred to stare 
at this unknown, beautiful woman, who seemed 
to be at home with Prosper Dekker. But the 
well-bred surprise was in her tone and man- 
ner. 

“ He should have had it last night.” 

“So he said. Shall we go down to him ?” 

“ Excuse me, are you — boarding here ?” 

“ 1 am visiting my sister. My sister is,”— Mrs. 


IN THE WINDOW SEAT. 


441 


Kellinger was ashamed of her pride, — “ Mr. Dek- 
ker’s housekeeper.” 

“ That little woman !” cried Annie, delightedly. 
“ I fell in love with her.” 

Annie ran down the seven steps with an unbur- 
dened heart. Prosper had gone to find her. And 
this lady was only his housekeeper’s sister. 

He was in the parlor shaking hands with her 
mother. He would turn and see her in the door- 
way; the beautiful lady had vanished. There was 
no one now to come between her and her old, old 
friend. 

“ Annie ! My dear little Annie !” 

He caught her in his arms and kissed her as he 
had done when she was five years old ; and then 
he lifted her to the window seat and stood, as he 
had that day, looking at her. She had hidden the 
book then. Had she something now to hide ? 

“ Annie, you haven’t changed one bit,” with an 
inflection of deepest satisfaction. 

“ You have,” she laughed, shyly; “you look 
younger. I used to think you very old.” 

“I am younger,” he returned; “ younger and 
stronger.” 

“You look as though you had never been ill,” 
said Mrs. Pierrepont. 


442 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES . 


“With exercise and rest I beep well.” 

“You will not break down again,” decided 
Annie. 

“ I trust not. But come and see my house and 
grounds.” 

“And your housekeeper,” added Annie, “ and 
her sister.” 

“ Oh, you have seen Mrs. Kellinger. I told her 
I should bring you here. You were very kind not 
to wait.” 

A shyness had grown upon Annie that she did 
not enjoy or understand. She had never felt shy 
with this big brother in all her life before. How 
strange for him to seem young; or was it that she 
had grown old ? 

“ Isobel,” he said to his housekeeper s sister, 
opening a side door to speak to her, “ come here, 
and help me show these good friends our orchard 
and garden.” 


XXXI. 


STRONG AND WEAK. 

Tea was over (such a queer informal tea, but de- 
lightful) and Prosper Dekker had driven the ladies 
to their hotel. 

“Wouldn't a walk on the pier be splendid!” 
exclaimed Annie. “ They do not want you at 
home. Your housekeeper and her sister can enter- 
tain each other. Prosper, your housekeeper came 
to the tea-table with us.” 

“ Where should she come if not to the table, and 
when, if not at the tea-table, and who should if not 
herself?” 

“ She is a lady, I know,” Annie conceded. 

“ And her sister ?” he asked, with a gleam of 
quiet humor. 

“Oh, she is bewitching; she knows Kome as well 
as I do ! And London better ! Why is her sister 
your housekeeper ?” 

“ Because we both desire it.” 


( 443 ) 


444 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


u Would the sister be housekeeper if you desired 
it ?” 

“I have never asked the question,” he answered, 
gravely. 

u Are they poor ?” 

“ You would call them poor. Mrs. Kellinger 
has a little money, but she has a daughter to sup- 
port. A daughter older than you are.” 

“ Why don’t she support herself — the daughter.” 

“ I think she does.” 

a Is she — Mrs. Kellinger — going home soon ?” 

“Why ?” 

“ Oh, I wanted to know ! Don’t you want to go 
out on the pier ?” 

“ Some other night. Mrs. Kellinger returns to- 
morrow and I must have the evening at home.” 

“ You do not have to entertain her, Prosper. 
Where is her sister ?” with the old pretty, coaxing, 
half-caressing manner. 

“ I am very sorry to refuse you; I will come to- 
morrow evening,” with the old, big-brother tone. 

“ I may not care to go to-morrow evening,” petu- 
lant and indignant. 

“Oh, yes you will. You will want to see the 
moon rise.” 


“ It rises too late. 


STRONG AND WEAN. 


445 


“ You will want to see something then, and I 
shall want to see you. I must hear all about that 
graduation.” 

“Mamma expected you to stay; she said she 
would come down and listen to the music with us.” 

Annie’s hand was on his arm in the old childish 
manner ; tears were trembling near her eyes. How 
disappointed the child was ! 

But -he had promised Isobel. 

“ Good-night, little girl. I will come to-mor- 
row,” he promised, bending to kiss her lips. 

“ Good- night,” she said, proudly. “ I am not 
such a little girl, now, Prosper, and I do not care 
about to-morrow.” 

All the way home he meditated, and his medita- 
tions ended in a sigh. Would Annie keep her 
promise, now ? Had she learned that the break- 
ing was a child’s caprice ? And he had brought it 
upon her by that impulsive, unpremeditated leave- 
taking in that window seat. How it all came back ! 
She remembered it, he had seen it in her eyes. 

He would take Isobel, the woman, into the room, 
and tell her how he had loved Annie, the child. 
She had been quiet at the supper table; he had 
spoken twice before she noticed him ; was she glad 
that she was going back to Bel to-morrow ? Driv- 


446 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES . 


ing into the green lane he found Marietta upon 
the stoop; he tossed the reins to the boy in wait- 
ing and sprang out. 

“ Are you alone ?'’ 

“Just alone; Isobel just went in.” 

There was no need to take her to the window 
seat, she was there already, sitting on it, leaning 
back against the folded shutters. 

“ Here I am back again ! What do you think 
of those old friends of mine ? I wanted you to see 
Annie.” 

“ I never saw such perfection in flesh and 
blood.” 

“Neither did I. She has bloomed; she was in 
bud when I saw her last in Florence.” 

“Her mother is very much the lady.” 

u Oh, of course; and she has had good sense in 
training Annie.” 

“I wish Bel might see her.” 

“ She will some day. Poor little Bel, how she 
broke her heart over that unfortunate letter. Will 
you believe me I was too angry with her to see her 
afterwards ? I left a message. I was in a pas- 
sion.” 

“ You” she smiled. “ You even-tempered mor- 
tal!” 


STRONG AND WEAN 


447 


“ Are you glad you are going to-morrow ? ” 

“ I have been here seven days,” she evaded. 

“ And Bel has written seven times.” 

He moved up and down; he had picked a bit of 
the pennyroyal from the bunch on the table, and 
was holding it between his lips. 

“ Mr. Devoe is no w r orse ? ” 

“ 0, no.” 

i k Why not stay another seven days ? Are you 
like Noah’s dove, must you fly back because you 
can find no place to stay ? ” 

“You are more like the dove; you have some- 
thing in your bill,” with a flash of mischievousness 
like a girl’s. 

“ You do not answer me.” 

“I do not want to stay; I want to go home,” 
she cried, as if in sudden pain. 

“Are you displeased with me?” 

“Not with you, with myself.” 

“ Isobel, I have never said it before — but you 
know it ; I want you all the time — to help me and 
rest me.” 

She moved and dropped to the carpet. 

“Do not say that; you do not understand. That 
little girl, she is not a little girl now, is the wife 
for you; she will grow up with you, and you will 


448 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


grow alike. I am an old woman compared to her; 
I am old compared to you — with my life and my 
hard experiences. Prosper Dekker, I will never 
marry you; Annie Pierrepont is your wife, and she 
loves you and will understand you and love you 
better as she grows up to you. I am old enough 
to be her mother,” she said, pitifully. 

“ You are young to me,” he pleaded. 

“ When you are fifty you will be in your prime ; 
how old I shall be ! Past sixty. A woman past 
sixty is old! A woman past forty is not young. 
That girl’s coming has opened my eyes ; the more 
I love you the more I will not marry you !” she 
said distinctly and decidedly. 

“ Isobel, you are wild ! you do not know what 
you are saying,” he answered, patiently. 

“ You do not know: but you will know and 
thank me.” 

“ Listen to me, let me convince you.” 

“You cannot convince me; I know life better 
than you. I know you admire me, and you love 
me because you are interested in me ; when your 
heart was sore for her you found me. Tell me, did 
not your love come back when you saw her to- 
day ? Did you not forget me wholly for one 
moment ? ” 


STRONG AND WEAK. 


449 


“A moment is nothing,’' he said impatiently, 
“you are unreasonable and jealous/’ 

“ Yes, I am jealous. I should be jealous of her 
always. But I am thinking of you. You do not 
know what you are about, but I know. I know 
because I am so much older. Shall I take advan- 
tage of you ? I helped to spoil one man’s life; do 
let me help save another man’s.” 

Her voice was low in its intense pleading; the 
tears were raining unheeded down her cheeks. 

“ I have never done anything great or good in 
my life. I have been all selfish. I know I could 
not be happy if I did not make you happy; you 
would be tired of me. I am moody and low spir- 
ited, I am not always as you see me. I would 
rather stay with Bel ; she is never disappointed in 
me, and growing old makes no difference to her. 
I should wear myself out hating to grow old and 
in trying to keep young for your sake. Annie will 
not have to try. It will be more than twenty 
years before she is as old as I am to-night.” 

“Isobel, will you not listen to reason? Do 
you not believe* that growing old will only make 
you more beautiful to me?” he asked, passion- 
ately. 

“ Yo, I do not believe it Tell me this; did you 
29 


450 


I SOB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES \ 


regret just one minute that you had promised to 
come back to me to- night ?” 

“ That is nonsense,” he exclaimed, angrily. 

“ Prosper,” laying her hand upon his arm as 
Annie had done, “ I pray you, tell the truth to me ; 
tell it for truth’s sake.” 

He shook her off and strode out of the room. 

She stood one moment, the tears still raining 
down her cheeks. “ I have been brave,” she sob- 
bed. And then she went slowly up the seven steps 
and stood upon the threshold of the queer little 
room, where, so long and so short a time ago had 
appeared to her the loveliest vision of girlhood. 

The next morning he drove her to the pier and 
they walked up and down together waiting for the 
boat. 

“Isobel, I did not sleep one hour last night.” 

“ Will you promise me something ?” 

“Yes,” he said, moodily, “if it will make you 
any happier.” 

“ You are a good man, but you are very human; 
as human as I am. Will you promise me that you 
will see Annie Pierrepont as often as you can for a 
whole year ?” 

“ What for ? To what end ?” 

“That you may learn your own heart.” 


STRONG AND WEAN 


451 


“I know my own heart.” 

“ After that year is over write or come to me — 
if you are not bound to her.” 

“ I cannot see her without giving her reason to 
suppose that I wish to renew the old — 

“ Then do not go to her until you do wish to re- 
new the old friendship. But there she is now! 
She expects to stay here a month.” 

“ Isobel, you cruelly misjudge me. I will come 
to you and tell you so. When may I come ?” 

“In one year or two — when 1 am one or two 
years older, and one or two years further removed 
from you,” with something sweet in her bitterness. 

“You talk like a woman.” 

“You will talk like a man when I see you 
again.” 

“You are very hard. I am surprised that such 
hardness is in you.” 

“ I know you are surprised; you did not know 
me ; I did not know myself until last night. It 
will rest me to go back to the child. Bel has 
shown me how to be true.” 

The boat was coming in ; a few loiterers had 
gathered upon the long pier ; Annie Pierrepont 
was standing near them with her face averted, 
watching the children playing in the surf. 


452 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


Soon the throng poured off the boat and Prosper 
and Isobel were lost in the crowd. 

“ You leave me a miserable man,” was his part- 
ing words. 

Was she a miserable woman ? She hardly 
knew; it was something to be. brave and true ; it 
was something to know that if her caprices had 
helped to spoil one life, her truth and unselfish- 
ness were helping to save another from a mistake 
that would for himself make a long life bitterness. 
He loved Annie still ; she had read it in the youth 
that came back to his voice ; why had he not 
known it ? He was a good man, but how human ! 
Was she glad that girl had come in time ? 

“ I am human too,” she said, in sorest agony, 
and hid herself behind her veil. The ladies’ cabin 
was empty; she parted the curtains and went in; 
with her veil still drawn she sought the farthest 
corner and sat there the tw r o hours of the trip, not 
thinking, not feeling. 

When was this victory achieved? Not in the one 
supreme moment in which she had risen above 
herself, but in the hours of the past two years 
that she had spent upon her knees. 

Those two hours he passed with Annie Pierre- 
pont ; wise, tender, playful, abstracted by turns. 


STRONG AND WEAK. 


453 


never for one moment forgetting the eyes that had 
hastened to turn away from his; how much misery 
he had wrought ! 

Would Perez ever have done such a thoughtless 
thing ? 

So self-absorbed he had been that he had forgot- 
ten hearts could ache because of him ; he had not 
thought that Annie might grow older and learn 
how much he was to her; he had not thought but 
that he could give to this woman, so impulsive 
and weak, and yet so wise, a heart as satisfied as 
her own. Had he forgotten the common sense 
and natural relations of life ? Had he expected to 
forget Annie, the love of many years, so soon ? 
Was he fickle? Was he selfish? To think that 
God would bless men through such a man as he 
was proving himself to be ! Another night he 
could not sleep. In his note book he made this 
entry : “ When I say : ‘ Lord, I have sinned,’ he 
nows just how. When 1 say: ‘Lord, I desire 
this thing,’ he knows if the desire be in my weak- 
ness or in my strength. He knows just why. 
And because he knows just how and just why, 
he knows just what to do, and just when. Lord, 
I have been a fool. I am a fool to-night. I 
know not what to do. Is not thy strength made 


454 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


perfect in weakness ? Thy wisdom in such folly 
as mine ?” 

The next day was the Sabbath ; he had been in- 
vited to preach in the new church in the village ; 
in the morning he spoke from the words : “0 

God, thou knowest my foolishness.” Coming out 
of church, a countryman said to his neighbor: 
“That was a powerful plain talk to us foolish 
folks.” 


XXXII. 


NATURAL HISTORY AND A PROMISE. 

“ I never do know whether it is a mountain or a 
hill,” said Bel, one morning in September. 

“ O yes you do,” answered Perez, encouragingly, 
“the mountains are the hills grown up.' 1 

“ I shall put that fact in my Natural History; it 
has nothing to thrive on but your sage observa- 
tions.” 

“ Bring it to me, I haven’t seen it in an age.” 

“ I would rather not. I am ashamed of it.” 

“ Then I shall take it away from you,” he 
threatened. 

“I wish you would,” she laughed. 

Grandfather’s chair was near them on the piazza; 
they sat together on the upper step ; the old man 
smiled at the sound of the happy voices ; within 
the last year his ear had not readily caught words 
not spoken with clear emphasis. Perez and Bel 
had now no need to hide themselves in foreign 
speech. 


( 455 ) 


456 


ISO BEDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ Poor grandpapa/’ said Bel, looking np to return 
his smile. 

“ Because he doesn't hear all you say to me ? 
Happy grandpapa,” mimicking her tone. 

“ Perez, I do not like you,” with a contradictory 
sparkle in her eyes. 

“ And I do not like you. I love you.” 

“ That is nonsense,” she rebuked, severely ; “open 
your book again and read sense to me.” 

“First, I want you to bring your Natural His- 
tory; it needs correction by this time.” 

“ Perez, you will never make me learned.” 

“ You are already learned; you surpass me in 
artlessness, you are wise in devices to make me 
love you better every day — ” 

“ I will go away if you talk any more nonsense.” 

“You may go and get the book.” 

“ You always have your way,” she said, rising 
with a comical sigh, “some day I shall resist 
you.” 

The book was hidden away under a pile of news- 
papers on the table in the bay window ; she 
brought it with heightened color ; she was ashamed 
of it. 

“ I think it makes people wise to be unhappy,” 
she said, seating herself again at his side, “ I am 


NATURAL HISTORY AND A PROMISE . 457 


so happy that I think only of silly things; I haven’t 
said anything wise for a month. Grandpapa has 
not been cross since I took that long drive with 
you.” 

“ You must take another to-morrow.” 

“ 0 no, please ; I promised him I would not go 
again for so long this summer.” 

“I think I have something to say about that. 
Isobel, I oivn you; he has not the first right to 
you.” 

She did not lift her eyes ; she could feel the flash 
in his eyes ; it was not the first time he had com- 
pelled her to break her word to. her grandfather ; 
he said it would teach her that she had no right to 
promise ; she had no right to give to her grandfa- 
ther the time that belonged to him. 

“ But Perez, he is not so well now; the doctor 
says he may have an attack any day and die ; and 
that is thirty miles, going and coming.” 

He had taken the book from her hand and was 
turning the leaves. 

“ Let us read it together. You will see me charm- 
ed, for you are like 

1 The girl who at each pretty phrase let drop 
A ruby comma, or a pearl full-stop, 

Or an emerald semicolon.' ” 


458 


IS OB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


He was not angry; he was never angry, but he 
was determined. How childish her written words 
appeared; no wonder he thought he could do as he 
liked with her ; her eyes, rather dimmed, followed 
the pencilled words. 

“ Pertaining to Sir Walter Scott : the little dog 
across the way. He often comes within my half 
acre. Sir Walter, there is something very Scotch 
about your bushy eyebrows and the bright eyes 
under them. Such a dear black nose ! and a ruff 
about your neck, I think you have brought some 
blood from Skye, because of your funny way of 
trotting on three legs like Mary Hyde’s little 
Skye. Your trot is a particularly humorous and 
important one, with steps about three inches long. 

“ An hour later. I ran over to Miss Jue’s with a 
message from mamma (which message contains 
no Natural History, and, therefore, cannot be here- 
in recorded) and I dropped two dead grass stalks 
into her dove cage. (The date is April, and that 
is why the grass is not fresh. A real Naturalist 
takes note of dates.) On lifting the lid soon after 
(for I tarried after my message was delivered) the 
darling (one of them) stood on the edge of the 
empty box nest with a bit of the dried grass in its 
mouth. They are particularly eager to have a nest. 


NATURAL HISTORY AND A PROMISE. 459 


(The same word again — P. says I must not repeat 
unless repetition strengthens. He repeats some- 
thing every time he comes; does that strengthen ?) 
Evening. Above the line of the low hills the sky 
is a light faint blue, next comes a broad cloud 
band. Over the way — (over the way is a part of 
my half acre now-a-days) the pink-tinted sky 
forms a background for a small forest of white- 
blossomed cherry trees. 

“Apr. 23 (I will date it this time). All Sir 'Walter 
can do is to sniff and try to catch his breath when 
Norah (that is grandpapa’s hound) rolls him about 
and twists and turns and kneads him. They are 
playing out the window where grandpapa can 
watch. 

“ Wasps are apt to be ugly. (This morning I 
counted twenty-seven on the two small windows in 
the kitchen garret.) They are ugly just because 
they are such spindly little things in the middle ; 
that is where their heart ought to be and there is 
not room for it. 

“This is not elegant English. Perez says I do not 
speak as prettily as when I came ; my speech has 
been corrupted; at first it was more like book En- 
glish, and now it is more colloquial. I catch words 
from mamma and Aunt Marie. (This is very nat- 


460 


ISO BEL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 


ural, although, strictly speaking, not Natural His- 
tory.) 

“ I ask grandpapa to look at the clouds; delicate 
pearl against a light pure blue. 

“ I do notice nature, since I began this book, as I 
did not do before. I would rather show this to 
Perez than to Mr. Ruskin. 

“Apr. 26. Dandelions are closing for the night. 
I wonder why they close when the sun is gone? 

“ May 9. Sitting in the bay-window. Grandpapa 
and I seem to live within this half circle. The 
wind blows — trees, and the grass are of the richest 
green ; the air is overflowing with the gladness of 
the spring. (So am I.) No clouds. Wavering, 
quivering shadows on the grass. 

“ This is compensation for two stormy days. I do 
not know whether the rainy days are the between 
times or the sunshiny days. I set out to find some 
good times in between the hard times; the good 
times are so long, and the hard times so shoi’t. 

“ A bit of animal life. Sir Walter in the sun, on 
the piazza (on his own piazza), and Perez whist- 
ling as he strides up and down. 

“ Afternoon. The birds have not sung much to- 
day; too full for utterance. Grass blades tremble 
and quiver in the breeze. I believe they are glad 


NATURAL HJS TORY AND A PROMISE . 461 


to be alive. I wonder if any living thing is as 
glad to be alive as 1 am ? 

44 This morning Aunt Marie sent me to Mary 
Hyde’s, on an errand, and I saw two saucy cat 
birds in a thicket, and I think I saw an oriole. The 
thrushes are singing. 

44 What is sweeter than the voice of the evening 
thrush ? 

44 (Perez says Annie Pierrepont laughs like the 
evening thrush.) 

44 Wordsworth’s 4 There was a time,’ fits into this 
day. 

44 Perez reads hours to grandpapa and me. 

44 May 17. Ligfit clouds resting in the sky like 
dainty boats or islands in a sea of blue, some in 
groups and some alone. 

44 Perez says that 4 some day ’ he will take me 
across the sea and show me again the dear old 
city, and the school where I was so sorrowful; he 
says it shall be our wedding journey. 

44 Grandpapa heard him and told him not to put 
such ideas into my head ; that I was happy enough 
where I am. And I am. But I like to think of 
the sea, and Havre. 

44 21. I came to the spring to get grandpapa a pail 
of spring water; I brought my book and pencil. 


462 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


Our little ducks had run away, and here I found 
the nineteen little beauties. Did they run and run 
until they found the water? Nineteen naughty 
little heads, bright eyes and yellow bills, huddled 
up together. 

“ 1 will not send you back, for I feel as if I had 
run away too. There is a bird s nest in the grass 
along the right bank of the brook, so cosy and 
dainty ; the four eggs have brown spots on a 
blue ground. 

“ Yesterday Perez brought me a stone broken in 
two pieces full of the prints of fossilized shells. 
He found them on our place. A robin just dropped 
from a hickory branch to the ground. (I know 
about many trees; my Natural History tutor told 
me.) 

“A woodpecker is investigating the trunks of 
some hickories for a lunch of worms. 

“The sunlight floods the open places and makes 
shadows in the grove. This grove is a perfect 
place. Perez and I often come here. (Grandpapa 
thinks he has to let me come when P§rez asks 
him.) In one corner are two piles of sawn logs. 
Sam cut the tree down early in the year; he was 
hunting (grandpapa loves rabbit as well as old 
Jacob loved his savory meat), and he thought 


NATURAL HISTORY AND A PROMISE . 463 


there was a rabbit in the hole at the base; he 
tried to smoke him out and so set the tree on 
fire. It had to come down then. He did not tell 
grandpapa about burning the tree. The logs look 
so pretty that I will draw them some time when I 
can stay longer. (I should not stay now.) 

“Below the fence is a swamp; bogs, ferns, 
trees, bushes. I think grandpapa’s toad comes 
here. 

“A dark brown calf is in the field. As far as I 
can translate her noises she thinks she has lost her 
mother. 

“ The sound of the locomotive is away off where 
Perez takes the train every morning. And now, 
grandpapa, I will dip my small pail in the 
spring.” 

Long before this page was reached, Bel had 
hidden her face on her grandfather’s knee. There 
were several other pages, and the interested reader 
finished the last before he tossed the book away. 

“There!” exclaimed the author of the Natural 
History, with a relieved breath. 

“ And now, Puss, about our drive to-morrow.” 

“It is vacation, and we can go another time,” 
she pleaded, lifting her head. 

“ I wish to go to-morrow. 1 have a special rea- 


464 ISOBEL’S BETWEEN TIMES. 

son for taking you to-morrow. I have a surprise 
for you.” 

Her eyes brightened. The drive was a perfect 
pleasure in itself. But the surprise ! 

‘ It is the last day of my vacation, too. ' 

“ I know it,” Bel sighed. 

“ y° u mean th at you do not wish to go ?” 

“You know I wish to go. But I promised. 
Perez, I told him I would not be gone so long 
again.” 

“ 1 lntend to start early in the morning and 
drive home after the moon has risen. At the hotel 
where we took dinner that day I have engaged to 
meet two or three people. One of them you have 
long wished to see— one is Prosper.” 

Her face was hidden again on grandfather’s knee ; 
he stroked her hair and smiled. Oh, how disap- 
pointed she was ! His last day, and the drive, and 
the surprise. 

“Mamma takes such good care of him, now. 
He would not know the difference if he did not see 
us * — Oh, I do so wish to go.” 

“ There is no reason why you should not. Your 
giandfather is too exacting, and it grows upon 
him because you yield to every whim. It is time 
for this thing to be stopped.” 


NATURAL HISTORY AND A PROMISE. 465 


The face was still hidden, the withered fingers 
were lovingly stroking the bright hair. 

“ Children, don’t quarrel. Bel Hope, what does 
he want ?” 

“Tell him,” said Bel’s smothered voice. 

Perez arose and bent over the old man’s chair. 

“ To-morrow is the last day of my vacation. I 
want to take Bel away for a long drive to see some 
friends of mine. Prosper and two friends of his 
are to meet us.” 

“She said she would not go again,” muttered 
the old man. 

“ But she asks you to release her from her 
promise. She must not promise again without my 
consent.” 

“ Your consent, young man !” exclaimed grand- 
father, angrily. “ What have you to say about 
it?” 

“0, Perez, what made you say that?” cried Bel, 
distressed. “ Now he will never let me go.” 

“ I said it because it was time for it to be said,” 
replied Perez, quietly. “ I expect you to be ready 
at half-past seven to-morrow morning.” 

“He will not release me,” said Bel, rising. “ It 
will make him worse to irritate him. The doctor 

said he must not be excited.” 

30 


466 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN 7'IMES. 


^V® are not exciting him. lie is exciting him- 
self:” 

With which remark Perez gathered his books 
together, and without a word of parting went his 
way. 

“ Bel Ho P e > you shall not go,” cried her grand- 
father, grasping her hand. “ Promise me.” 

“ I cannot,” said Bel, tearfully. “ Perez is angry 
this time, grandpapa.” 

“ I’ll see about that,” he muttered. “ When I 
say you shall not go that ends the matter.” 

His head fell forward on his breast, he gasped 
for breath. 

“ Mamma, mamma!” called Bel, in great affright, 
“come quick and bring the ammonia.” 

The frightened summons brought Mrs. Kellinger 
from the sitting-room. The old man had fainted. 

“ 1 knew h e would,” half sobbed Bel. “ Perez 
thinks he does it to have his own way. The doc- 
tor said he would die some time.” 

Before Mary Watts brought her husband, Mrs. 
Kellinger had lifted his stiffened head. He spoke 
with difficulty. 

“ Get me to bed.” 

“ Yes > grandpapa, dear,” cried Bel, rubbing his 
hand. You are better again.” 


NATURAL HISTORY AND A PROMISE . 467 


He smiled, and tried to lift his hand to touch 
her cheek. 

u I will not go, grandpapa. I promise now. 
We are young, we can wait for our good times.” 

“ Go where, Bel Hope ?” 

“Anywhere. I will always stay with you.” 

“I knew you would/ with the faintest smile in 
his eyes. 

After he was carried to bed, he lay still, and 
weak, and smiling. 

“ Bel Hope said she would not go anywhere,” he 
said, contentedly. 

“ Where did she want to go ?” asked Mrs. Kel- 
linger. 

“ Off. A long ways. With him.” 

Standing at his pillow, Bel explained: 

“ To that hotel again, where the falls are — you 
know I went last week. Mr. Prosper is to meet — 
was to meet us there with two friends. Do you 
know who the friends are ?” 

Did she know who the friends were ? It was a 
month since she had left him on the pier, and this 
was the first news she had had. She had asked no 
questions, and neither of his cousins had alluded to 
his doings. Miss Jue had spoken once of Annie 
Pierrepont. 


468 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“I think,” — she was closing the blinds “I 

think it is Annie Pierrepont and her mother.” 

“ 0, mamma ! And I might see her ! ” 

It would be one of her dreams coming true. 

“ But w] iy do you think so ? Mr. Prosper never 
talks about her.” 

“ He has spoken of her to me. I did not tell 
you,” giving the blind a pull, “I saw her while I 
was away.” 

“ An d you didn’t tell me ! Was she beautiful ?” 

“ I would rather you would judge for yourself.” 


XXXIII. 


CHOOSING. 

That evening Miss Jue’s step was in the hall. 
Mrs. Kellinger’s first impulse was to flee. All day 
she had felt that she must hide somewhere. But 
who knew, who could know her secret beside God, 
to whom all hearts were opened ? 

“ How is the old gentleman to-night ?” Miss Jue 
whispered, solemnly. “ When Mary came over for 
the mustard she thought he had had a fit. I was 
away or I should have come immediately. Perez 
gave me no satisfaction ; he never does ; he never 
thinks people are sick until they are dead, and he 
says this attack is nothing but a fit of temper.” 

Mrs. Kellinger was standing with her hand upon 
the door knob. She felt that she needed its sup- 
port. 

“ How pale you look !” Miss Jue rattled on in a 
louder whisper. “You look as though you had 

had a fit yourself. I should think you would be 
. _ * ( 469 ) 


470 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


frightened. I came over to see if I might sit up 
or do something to-night. Perez wouldn’t come. 
I told him it was more a man’s place than mine. 
But how is the old gentleman ?” 

“ Very weak.” 

“ He always is, isn’t he ?” 

“He is weaker than usual; every excitement 
leaves him weaker.” 

I don t see what there is to excite him ,* you 
keep every breath away from him.” 

“ He has been slightly delirious; he thought Bel 
was Hope— her mother, and it was piteous to see 
him cling to her and beg her not to go.” 

I should think so,” said Miss Jue, sympathet- 
ically. “ I should think it would teach her a les- 
son.” 

“Who ? Bel ?” in evident surprise. 

“ Why, yes, not to leave him as she does ! And 
that drive to-morrow to meet Prosper and the 
Pierreponts. Perez is determined not to give it 
up, says Prosper will be there and it is a surprise 
for both girls.” 

“I think Bel has given it up.” 

I am relieved to hear it. I was so afraid the 
poor old gentleman would die some time while 
shes away; yesterday Perez took her down to our 


CHOOSING . 


471 


spring and I was in an agony all the time. But 
she doesn’t seem to care for him as she did, I 
notice, and I don’t wonder that it grieves the old. 
man. Would you like to have me stay? I am 
considered a good nurse.” 

If this loud whisper were evidence of her quali- 
fications, and loud whispering were a qualification, 
she certainly was a good nurse, thought her listen- 
er, with rasped nerves. 

“ You look worn out ; I can stay with Bel. You 
have looked worn out for a month ; I never saw a 
person change so in one month; I told Perez that 
your hair must grow white in the night, for it was 
certainly whiter every morning. Although per- 
haps you have been coloring it all along.” 

“ No,” smiled Mrs. Kellinger, with a touch of 
self-compassion, “ nature kept it colored for me.” 

“Is there anything else I can do ?” 

The whisper had burst into her usual shrill so- 
prano, and she had twitched off her sun bonnet. 

“ Miss Jue, I was just thinking, no one would 
think you had ever been a teacher.” 

“ Because I have lost all my particular ways ?” 

The pleading murmur from grandfather's room 
reached them, and then Bel’s voice in quieting 
reply. 


472 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES. 


Thank you, I do not think we need you ; Sam is 
within call and he misses Bel if she leaves the 
room. I will sleep on the sofa in the sitting-room, 
and Bel will sit m a comfortable chair by the bed- 
side: we will exchange as we can. I suppose 
Marietta can be spared.” 

“ I should think so. I imagine Prosper is with 
the Pierreponts most of the time. Did Perez tell 
you? He has a call to that church, half a mile 
from his house, nearer the shore, and has about de- 
cided to accept. But the letter came to-night, so 
how could he ? So I suppose he ’ll be married and 
settle down; it seems sudden, but he has always 
known Annie Pierrepont.” 

Ihe hand upon the door-knob rested heavily. 

“ 1 wil1 come in and sit with you. Illness makes 
a house seem big and lonesome.” 

“ 0 no, thank you; not if you are busy.” 

“ I brought my work. I thought it would keep 
me awake if I had to sit up.” 

Mrs. Kel linger threw the sitting-room door open, 
and Miss Jue and her sun-bonnet and her roll of 
towels to be hemmed entered in and took posses- 
sion. She seemed to take possession of every room 
she entered. 

Grandfather was quiet. Bel was singing: 


CHOOSING . 


473 


“ Jesus, lover of my soul.” 

The lamp in the inner room was placed on the 
carpet, where it would not disturb the wide open 
eyes upon the pillow. 

Mrs. Kellinger had been lying on the sofa in the 
dark. 

The light from the hall streamed in; but the 
room was not lighted sufficiently for Miss Jue to 
unroll her work. 

The two women sat upon the sofa, talking in low 
tones. Mrs. Kellinger was simply replying. She 
thought she would be willing to live on bread and 
water for the rest of her days if her companion 
would only stop talking and go away. 

The dark and the sofa was all she wanted in the 
world. 

“ Shall you preserve your quinces this year, or 
do you prefer jelly ? We prefer jelly.” 

“ I haven’t thought,” w T as the dull reply. 

“ I always think and plan ahead. I suppose I 
learned system in teaching. My breakfasts, sup- 
pers and dinners are planned ahead for a week, al- 
ways. Are you as systematic as that ?” 

“ I am not systematic at all.” 

“I thought so; but you always wash Mondays 
and sweep Fridays. Your woman is systematic.” 


474 


ISOBEVS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ Is she ?” was the absent-minded answer. 

“ Marietta was. I wonder if she will stay after 
Prosper is married ? I imagine that flighty, trav- 
elled young thing knows no more of housekeeping 
than a butterfly. What kind of a minister’s wife 
will she make ?” 

“ She has all her life to learn in.” 

“ But other people can’t wait all their lives for 
her to learn.” 

“ Mr. Dekker will make a good teacher,” was the 
forced reply, after a pause. 

“ Oh, he will think her perfection.” 

The light from the hall lamp fell upon Miss Jue’s 
face. The other face was in the shadow. 

“Young people now-a-days have everything 
their own way. Prosper might have chosen dis- 
creetly.” 

“And Perez, too,” said Bel’s mother, with a dis- 
mal laugh. 

“Oh, I am reconciled to that. I had to be. 
But we get pushed aside. What account are you 
and I beside these young things ?” 

“ Bel cares for me as much as I want her to,” said 
Mrs. Kellinger, spiritedly. 

“ I didn’t mean that. I meant in the eyes of the 
world.” 


CHOOSING. 


475 


u The eyes of the world are not upon me,” with 
another laugh. 

“ When these boys are married, you and I will 
have no consideration. Every marriage makes a 
heart ache to somebody, I really believe. I would 
like to write a book upon that side of the question. 
Wouldn’t you ?” 

“ No, it would be too sad,” said Mrs. Kellinger, 
unguardedly. 

“ There ! I knew you felt as I do, with all your 
keeping up.” 

“I do not feel as you do. I love to see young 
girls grow up to happiness. I only hope they will 
not throw their chances away. I believe every 
woman has some chance to be good and happy, 
even if many things are against her.” 

“ These girls haven’t anything against them.” 

In her heart Isobel Kellinger thanked God that 
this thing was true. 

“Prosper and Annie have had a separation; but 
perhaps they had to have, to learn how to behave 
to each other. Our lovers have run smooth, so far.” 

“Bel would never be capricious. She under- 
stands herself.” 

The step on the piazza entered the hall. Perez 
stood in the doorway of the sitting-room. 


476 


I SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


“Will you ask Bel to come here, Mrs. Kellin- 
ger V 

Listening as her mother went to her, he heard 
the whisper, but not the words of Bel’s reply. 

“Bel Hope! Who wants you?” demanded the 
old man, in a grumbling voice. 

“ Perez. Just a moment, grandpapa. I will 
come back in two minutes.” 

“ He is always wanting you. I’ll be dead and 
out of your way soon. Old folks are always in 
some young folks’ way,” he whined. 

Perez stepped forward to meet her and drew her 
out into the hall. The light as she stood under it, 
fell upon a pale face and anxious' eyes. 

“He’s very ill, Perez.” 

“ His voice sounds strong enough. He will be 
up as usual to-morrow.” 

“ The doctor says he is much weaker than from 
the last attack.” 

“ He always rallies. He has a constitution of 
iron. In two or three days he will be on the 
piazza again.” 

Bel looked doubtful. 

“ I wanted to speak about to-morrow. If you sit 
up all night how will you look and feel ?” 

“ I have done it before.” 


CHOOSING . 


477 


“ But I want you to look your brightest to-mor- 
row.” 

“ But, Perez,” entreatingly, “ you do not expect 
me to leave grandpapa.” 

“ I most certainly do. Your mother can wait 
upon him. You said yourself that she was a good 
nurse.” 

Her eyes were full of troubled tears. 

“ But he misses me. He misses me if I stir. 
Sometimes he thinks I am mamma, my own 
mamma. He has never lost his mind like this.’’ 

“ He is confused and half asleep. It is natural 
at his age. I wish you to go. Please say no more 
about it.” 

“ Perez, you are cruel; you are heartless.” 

He frowned and turned away; then he turned 
back and laid his hand upon her shoulder. 

“ I wish you to go. Do you care for my wishes ?” 

“Yes, when they are not cruel and selfish and 
heartless. He may die while I am gone.” 

“ He didn’t die the last time he had a fit of ill- 
temper,” said Perez, harshly. 

“ He is not ill-tempered; he is too old and weak 
to reason ; he is like a little child, and the doctor 
says we must treat him so.” 

“ Children are made to obey.” 


478 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


She moved away from the touch of his hand. 

“ I must go to him; do you hear him calling ?” 

“Isobel, listen to me; I wish you to go, he 
wishes you to stay; choose between us to-night, 
once and forever. I have had enough of this non- 
sense.” 

She lifted her eyes and looked straight into his; 
her eyes were cold and hard, his were flashing hot 
gleams of suppressed anger. 

“Then I do choose between you; you are selfish, 
and cruel, and heartless; he is old and weak and 
dying — he cannot have me very long, and no one 
can take my place — when I go he loses mamma 
and me both. You and I are young, we can have 
good times all our life. I choose between you, and 
I choose — Mm,” she cried, rapidly and passionately. 

He did not seem to see the white, cold, proud 
face; he lifted his hand as if he would push her 
from him. Suppressing the cry upon her lips she 
fled up the stairway. He stood a moment as if 
he had not power to move, then he went heavily 
out. 

“ Bel Hope, sing to me again,” moaned the old 
man. 

Bel came at her mother’s summons ; the words 
of the hymn faltered upon her lips. 


CHOOSING . 


479 


“ Mamma, sing,” she faltered, “ my heart is 
breaking.” 

All the night through the old man slept; Bel 
wept and dozed in her chair ; her mother, sleeping 
and waking, lay upon the sofa. 

He awoke as the birds were ushering in the 
dawn, and spoke with renewed strength; “I am 
better, Bel Hope.” 

“Yes, grandpapa dear,” she said, wearily. 

When Perez and his sister drove away, Bel and 
her grandfather were sitting on the piazza; she 
trembled as she leaned upon the back of his chair ; 
the sunlight was dimmed and grandfather’s voice 
sounded as if coming through waves of thickness. 

“ Good ! He has gone without you ; I trusted 
you, Bel Hope,” cried grandfather, in a weak trium- 
phant voice. 

Miss Jue smoothed the duster over her lap, and 
then she had her say; she had been burning to 
have it ever since she had heard every word last 
night. 

“ Perez, that girl over there is brave and true, 
and you ore cruel and hard. She is made of the 
right stuff, and if you have lost her you have lost 
something worth having. I shouldn’t think she 
would ever forgive you ; I couldn’t.” 


480 


ISOBEDS BETWEEN TIMES. 


He gave the horse a touch with the whip. 

“ The old man is as well as usual this morning; 
I knew it was a passing excitement; if this is to be 
kept up another year it is time for a stop to be put 
to it. One year has been enough for me; she be- 
longs to me, or she belongs to him.” 

“ She belongs to him,” said Jue, in her quietest, 
hardest manner, “ and I always told you so.” 


XXXIV. 


CONFESSION. 

Among the groups on the long piazza of the 
Mountain House, early that morning, were Prosper 
Dekker and Annie Pierrepont. 

44 It is not the first time we have seen the sun 
rise together, Nannie.” 

44 We have often seen it set. I like the sunrise 
better, because it is the beginning. Don’t you? 
You know I am only the beginning.” 

44 Of a sunshiny day for me !” 

44 I hope so,” she replied, her merry eyes shad- 
owed. “ I made it so dark one time for you.” 

Drawing her arm within his, he led her down 
the steps to the broad path. This path wandered 
off into a narrower one, and that into one where 
only two might walk together. 

“ Is the grass too damp for you ?” 

“ You are always so practical,” she laughed. 44 1 
have on my heavy shoes. With all your poetical 

air you are immensely and intensely practical.” 

31 " ( 481 ) 


482 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


The light words were lost upon him. His eyes 
were stern and fixed, and his voice tense in its 
self-control. 

u Nannie, I have a story to tell yon. Yon will 
be shocked, and it may turn you against me. I 
shall not blame yon. I deserve it. You believe 
me strong and wise. I am weak and foolish.” 

She was keeping her dress from brushing 
against the shrubbery. At his words she dropped 
the white folds and clasped his arm with both 
hands. 

“You have been strong and wise to me, ever 
since I can remember.” 

“You are such a child,” he said, fondly. “ You 
believe in me with all your faithful heart. That 
time in Florence when I gave you up, I believed 
that I had given up all hope of love and marriage 
and a home of my own. I thought I should go on 
my way alone, seeking nothing but work and en- 
joying nothing else. Other men had lived strong 
self-denying lives, wholly devoted to teaching men 
the will of God, and I thought a new consecration 
had been given to me. I gave you up, not as 
though you were dead, for then I might have 
thought of you, but as though you were living and 
would surely belong to some one else. I dared not 


CONFESSION. 


483 


even speak your name in my prayers, and I missed 
you there as much as anywhere.” 

“ 0 Prosper,” with a sob and a drooping of the 
head. “ I know I shouldn’t have been a bit good 
without you.” 

“ It was my selfish impulse that bound you. I 
pitied you, poor little dove. Then I went out in 
the world strong in myself — feeling as strong and 
sure of myself as Paul was of himself — nothing 
would move me away from my work. 

“I despise myself. You cannot despise me as 
much. I met a woman older than I am, beautiful, 
and in penitence and sorrow, and I was surprised 
into a growing interest in her. I saw that I was 
giving her a new life ; that through me, she hoped 
everything for herself; and I had lost you. And I 
was weak, and I showed in many ways that I loved 
her. I never told her so, but I gave her opportu- 
nities of showing how she cared for me — ” 

Annie interrupted: half in petulance half in 
earnest. 

“ How could she help it ?” 

“ I could have helped it. And when you came 
back, and I felt that you had grown into all I had 
believed you would grow into, and ten times more, 
my blind eyes were opened wide and I saw I had 


484 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


loved her only as a friend, an older sister, who was 
in trouble and whom I had comforted. That first 
night I saw you, I asked her to become my wife — ” 

The hold on his arm tightened, and her face lost 
all its color. 

“ But she saw through me, and refused me. She 
said I loved you and must go back to you.” 

“And is that why you came?” in a smothered 
voice. 

“Is it? Don’t you know better, foolish Nan- 
nie r 

“But I can’t see yet what you have done that is 
so wrong.” 

“ Can you not see that I have made her un- 
happy ?” 

“ Do you mean your housekeeper’s sister ? Why, 
she is almost as old as mamma !” 

“ Do you think hearts grow old ?” 

“ I hope mine will not.” 

“ I cannot forgive myself. I feel that I should 
not be here with you. I have no right to be 
happy. I should be punished for my weakness 
and selfishness.” 

“ Haven’t you been ? Haven’t you been un- 
happy ?” 

“ I hope you will never know how unhappy.” 


CONFESSION. 


485 


“ Then don’t be punished any more. Be happy 
now with me.” 

“ But how can I atone ? What can I do for 
her ?” 

“I think she was wrong, too. She is so old. 
She might know you couldn’t forget me, even if 1 
had been so bad. She had no right to care for 
you, excepting as mamma does. She has her 
daughter to think about ! Hasn’t she anything to 
do beside — ” 

“ She w r ill find something to do.” 

“ Mamma does ever so many things. I think 
she is a very weak woman,” w r ith angry impatience. 

“ Was she weak, Annie, when she sent me back 
to you ? If she had accepted me I should not have 
been here with you.” 

“ She had no right to accept you,” said Annie, in- 
dignantly. 

“ A weaker woman would ! I want you to un- 
derstand how strong and unselfish she was. There 
is more than the germ of a brave woman in her. 
Her life has been against her. Everything in your 
life has tended to your growth in beautiful things. 
She has had to go back and begin. You have her 
to thank that my weakness has not spoiled your 
life, and mine, and her own. A second rate hap- 


486 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


piness might have been given to all of us. Now 
we have the first and best.” 

u Won’t she have something?” sobbed penitent 
Annie. 

“ I think a great deal will be given her. One 
never loses by being true. God knows how to 
work our mistakes into his plan for us. His 
strength shines glorious through the veil of our 
weakness. And, now do you forgive me ? ” 

She lifted her face in unspoken assurance and he 
kissed her lips. 

“ I am glad you told me,” she said very gravely. 
“That you thought I was worth being told.” 


XXXV. 


A WEEK. 

The shadows of the leaves w r ere quivering on the 
grass, the hot September noon was at its height ; 
grandfather sat in his chair on the piazza, refus- 
ing to be pushed into the hall, saying fretfully 
that he must be out of doors, where he could catch 
his breath. 

It was Saturday, and a week since Bel had stood 
at her grandfather’s side and heard the sound of 
carriage wheels as Perez and Miss Jue drove 
away. 

A week of days and nights, in which he had not 
come to her and she had not gone to him ; could 
she confess herself in the wrong when she was not 
in the wrong ? 

Would he ever find himself wrong ? She won- 
dered and waited. Again and again she assured 
herself that he was cruel and heartless, that she 

could not love him when he treated her so, that 

( 487 ) 


488 


ISO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


she did not love him, that if lie did comeback 
and ask for the old bond to be renewed she would 
say: “I am disappointed in you; you are not my 
Perez Dekker; I do not love you.” 

Every day grandfather asked where Mr. Dekker 
was ; was he always in the city ? 

To-day, as the Saturday morning passed and did 
not bring him, he reiterated the question. 

“ Grandpapa,” said Bel, “ he is not coming 
again.” 

“ Not coming again ,” he repeated, “is he offended?” 
“Yes.” 

“ He is very touchy then.” 

A sad smile flitted over the girl’s pale face. 

“ I suppose you don’t care,” he said, reassuredly. 

“Yes, grandpapa, dear, I do care.” 

“Is that why you are so dead-and-alive, and will 
not sing to me ?” 

“ I cannot sing.” 

“ Pooh ! pooh !” 

He raised his head to look up into her face: 
“ Bel Hope, what ails you ?” 

“ Nothing,” she said, with a contradictory trem- 
bling of the lip. 

“Then something ails me; I missed something, 
J thought it was you.” 


A WEEK. 


489 


“ I am always here,” she said, with unconscious 
bitterness. 

“It takes a long time for a thought to get through 
my thick head. I am here and I am not here; now 
I am here and you are Bel Hope; I would like to 
see Mr. Perez Dekker while I am here.” 

“ What for ?” 

“ I have something to say to him.” 

“ What about — me !” she said hurriedly, “ you 
must not speak to him about me.” 

“ I shall do as I like. Go and bring Mr. Perez 
Dekker.” 

“Grandpapa dear,” she pleaded, “let me take 
you in. The sun is too hot for you.” 

“ Nothing is too hot for me; bring Mr. Perez 
Dekker, I say.” 

“ To-morrow — perhaps he will come. I think 
every day he will come.” 

“ He will come if you go for him. Go.” 

“ I cannot.” 

“ You must. Somebody must !” he exclaimed, 
hoarsely. “ I will go myself.” 

Mrs. Kellinger came up the steps with a bowl 
of ice cream. 

“ Take it quick, grandfather ! Miss Jue sent it 


over. 


490 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES. 


“ I will not touch it ! I will not eat or drink or 
sleep until I have seen Mr. Perez Dekker.” 

Bel gave her mother an appealing glance. 

“ Bun away,” Mrs. Kellinger said, in a low tone, 
“he will have to come. He looks purple, don’t you 
see ? I left him on the piazza, he started to come 
with me, then excused himself.” 

“ How does he — ” 

“ He is acting about as silly as you are, Miss Jue 
says.” 

Bel turned and went in ; there was no refuge like 
her own small chamber ; if she heard his voice could 
she hold herself back from flying down to him? 

“ Isobel, go for him,” commanded the old man. 

She ran across the road and called to him. 

“Is the old man worse?” he asked, hastening to- 
ward her. 

“He is failing every day — he must see you; he 
would make me come.” 

He followed her slowly. She was not sure 
whether or not it were reluctantly. There was no 
flutter of white or blue or pink upon the piazza. 
The old man in his calico gown leaned forward, his 
hands folded upon the top of his cane. 

“You have done well to come,” he greeted, 
harshly. “Where have you been all this time?” 


A WEEK. 


491 


“ As usual, at home and at college.” 

He took off his hat and did not replace it; he 
dropped it upon the floor of the piazza, and seated 
himself on the topmost step. 

“ How do you do to-day?” he asked, easily. 

“ About as usual. I don’t get no worse and no 
better. I want to know why you haven’t been 
here to see Bel Hope ?” 

With the thoughtfulness of a nurse Mrs. Kellin- 
ger had taken the bowl of ice cream ta> the cellar 
and placed it in the refrigerator. 

“I am glad there is always something to be 
done,” she said, half aloud. “ I am glad I can do 
such things, if nothing better. ” 

The young man twirled his hat upon his fingers. 

“ I have not come to see her because she does 
not wish me to come,” he replied, deliberately. 

“ Did she say so ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ How did she say it ?” 

“She said it seriously — sincerely. She chose 
between us, and she chose you.” 

“ I wish she would,” said the old man with the 
glimmer of a smile. But you needn’t tell me so, it 
isn’t nature ! You don’t believe it no more than I 
do.” 


492 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES . 


“ I am willing to take her word for it.” 

u You provoked her to it; my gentle lamb. 

“ She provoked me.” 

“ You have had time enough to cool off. Don’t 
yon two go to quarrelling about an old man like 
me! I aint worth it. She may choose to stay 
with me now because she will have enough ol you 
one of these days when I ain’t here to keep you 
apart.” 

Perez twirled his hat. There was nothing to 
reply to this. 

u Go and find her and tell her you have been a 
fool, and you are sorry for it. I aint agoing to let 
her go running off with you whether she wants to 
or don’t want to ; but you shan’t break her heart 
and make her as white as a sheet, and take all the 
sweetness out of her, just because you’ve got a 
quick temper and a jealous disposition, How is 
my time, young man, and don’t you go and spoil 
your good time that is ahead by having ugliness to 
repent of. Do you believe that I lay awake nights, 
old as I am, thinking of hard words and hard looks 
I gave to a woman before you was born? Well, 
sir, I do. And it don’t pay, anyhow. She had her 
will and her temper, and I had mine. We both 
were proud; and poor little Bel Hope is proud with 


A WEEK. 


493 


her heart aching. I never thought you was 
worthy of her, no man is. But if you want to be, 
go and find her and tell her you will never break 
her heart again.” 

Perez arose. His words seldom came impul- 
sively, but he took the limp chilly hands and held 
them fast. 

u We will both be kind to you,” he said. “ She 
told the truth. I was selfish and cruel,” 

At first Bel would not answer the summons 
upon the stairs ; at the third call she opened the 
door and came to the head of the stairs; in an in- 
stant he held her in his arms. 

“ I am so sorry,” she said, between laughing and 
crying. 

“ I was a bear and I have been one the whole 
week.” 

“ I think you are,” she laughed, struggling in 
the close pressure of his arms, “ let me go.” 

He bore her in triumph down to her grand- 
father; the old man’s face was radiant; Bel whis- 
pered to Perez that it was “glorified.” 

“ I want you to take good care of her ; I hold a 
mortgage, remember, but I give up my right the 
day I die,” said grandfather, weakly joyful. 

“ Some one else holds a mortgage,” cried a hap- 


494 


I SO BE VS BE TWEEN TIMES. 


py voice behind them, “ and she never gives up 
her right, Perez, it is too bad for you to come 
into such a mortgaged property.” 

“ It is too good for me, ’ he said, contritely, press- 
ing the fingers he was keeping on his arm. 

That evening, as they walked together in the 
twilight, Bel said: “Perez, I want to promise you 
something,’ (grandfather had sent them off). “ I 
will never again let my wicked pride come be- 
tween you and me.” 

“ And I want to promise you something, Isobel. 
I will never again be quick and passionate and 
greedy of my rights — and if I am, being so weakly 
human — ” 

But her fingers were over his lips. 

“ I think my heart would have broken in another 
week,” she said, with starting tears. 

“ It is pleasant to know how long it would take 
to break your heart.” 

“ Hear them laugh !” cried grandfather. “ Iso- 
bel, you may fix my drops ; I don’t believe you will 
poison me.” 

Mrs. Kellinger poured the drops into a small 
glass and went out to the kitchen for cool water; 
she said afterward that she lingered to look out 
into the night, but that it could not have been five 


A WEEK . 


495 


minutes before she returned; she spoke as she en- 
tered the dimly lighted room and then stood at his 
side with the drops in the cool water. His head 
often drooped forward as he sat thinking, or in a 
reverent tone, “praying,” and she touched his 
head, saying: “Grandfather!” Then, in a louder 
voice: “ Grandfather, it is time to take your drops.” 

He made no motion; her shriek brought the two 
from the piazza. He was taken to his room and 
laid upon his bed ; there was little evidence that 
he lived for three weeks. In the fourth week, with- 
out one spoken word, he ceased to breathe. “ Poor 
grandpapa! dear grandpapa!” cried Isobel, with 
tears, kissing his cold fingers, “ you loved me only 
too much.” 


XXXVI. 


AT MADAME 1 S. 

Again the afternoon sun streamed in at the four 
long windows; Madame’s windows were still the 
sunniest that looked out upon the square ; the un- 
carpeted floor was illuminated in patches and the 
stone steps caught the glow through the open door- 
way. 

The girl at the window in her white dress with 
the knot of rose color at her throat (Perez liked 
nothing so well as her white and rose color) had 
more than a faint rose tint in her cheeks to-day ; 
she would not say this afternoon as she had said, 
(how many years before ?) “ I do not see what I 
was made at all for,” — for she had seen. 

The placid voice that spoke now and then was 
as placid as ever, and the busy fingers as busy ; she 
chirped to her canary in intervals of talk; the con- 
versation was still in snatches. 

The band was playing martial music. But Iso- 
( 496 ) 


AT M ADAME'S. 


497 


bel was only half listening to the music. She was 
watching for somebody. Not for the stout gentle- 
man with the sea-browned and sun -burned face, or 
the two oddly dressed girls — how queer it was ! 
She was watching for Perez Dekker, the young 
man with the sharp black eyes and long hair, the 
young man she did not like — for Perez Dekker, 
her husband — the husband of a whole month. 

She laughed aloud as she put it to herself — the 
man she did not like — her husband ! 

“You have not told me about that strange 
America, Bel.” 

“I know so little about it. I never travelled 
anywhere. I did not once take a journey until we 
began our wedding journey.” 

“You have not told me about your grandfather, 
the old man you hated to go to.” 

“ Dear old grandpapa,” murmured Isobel. 

“Was he kind to you?” 

“ He was more than kind — he loved me.” 

“ You have not told me about your father.” 

“ I never saw papa again. He died — he was lost 
overboard. It was not a storm, but he was lost.” 

“ And your mother?” 

“ 0, mamma ! I never can tell you about 
mamma.” 


32 


498 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


“Is she as beautiful as ever ?” 

“More beautiful,” exclaimed Bel, enthusias- 
tically. “ Her hair is quite white, and that softens 
her like old lace. She is not as gay, but we love 
her the better for that. She changed after poor 
papa was lost.” 

“ She was so young, I thought she would not — I 
thought she might marry,” said Madame, trying to 
speak guardedly. 

“Mamma! Oh, she would never think of it. 
No one ever thought of it. She wears her black 
dresses and her widow’s cap. I could not think of 
it, it would spoil her. Miss Jue, — Perez says I 
must say sister J ue, — spoke of it one day. She says 
what no one else dares to say, and mamma looked 
so white and said so sharply : 4 Hush, Miss Jue, 
that I am sure she will not dare again. It was the 
day, I remember so well, that Mr. Prosper, cousin 
* Prosper, came and brought Annie, his wife, his 
beautiful wife. I suppose Miss Jue thought it was 
a time to speak of such things. It was when he 
came to marry me. 

“We were married in grandpapa’s sitting-room. 
I wanted it to be there, for I felt as if grandpapa 
was in his chair blessing us. He was so kind the 
last time he spoke to me— almost a year before.” 


AT MADAME' S. 


499 


“ Had you a large party ?” asked Madame, with 
interest. 

Madam e’s fingers paused over her work. Now 
and then Bel glanced out into the Square. 

“ 0 no, indeed, — so few. Aunt Marie and 
mamma, and Janet and Ellinor, were all the friends 
I had ; and Perez wanted no one beside his sister 
and Mr. Prosper and his wife. We had refresh- 
ments under the trees; no servants to wait on us, 
for Janet and Ellinor asked if they might be the 
waiters, and Aunt Marie directed them. It was 
all so delightful. Annie Pierrepont was as merry 
as a witch, and Perez was wild to say comical 
things. Prosper was quiet, and so was mamma, 
for mamma was losing me ; and Prosper was the 
minister, and he never is funny now-a-days. Miss 
Jue was grim once in a while, but she was not 
cross.” 

“ Where will your mother stay ?” 

“ At grandpapa’s, with Aunt Marie. There was 
money to be paid, and Perez paid it. He says I 
own the farm. But I told mamma it was hers as 
long as she lives. She has planned to be so busy, 
she and Aunt Marie. It does not seem like mamma 
to care to do such things. She is not like herself. 
Not as you knew her. She is lovelier than herself.” 


500 


l SO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


“If I had thought, that night in church, that 
that man would marry you,” began Madame, in a 
tone solemn to awfulness. 

“ What would you have done ?” laughed Bel. 

“ I wouldn’t have believed it.” 

“ I am glad I did not know it. I am glad I did 
not know anything of what would happen to me. 
Perez says I want to know the end of everything: 
and I did once. But I think it is so much more 
beautiful to have your life open day after day.” 

“ Open to blackness and disappointments?” 
asked Madame. 

“ It does sometimes. But I forget that now. I 
have forgotten ail those dreadful things I used to 
die about. I seem to think the good times have 
been always; all the between times have been de- 
lightful, and the hard times so soon over. I do 
not know which the between times have been, they 
have all been blessed times,” said Bel, in her happy 
voice. 

“ I meant the good times, when nothing hap- 
pened — between the times of trouble.” 

“ But the times of trouble have been so good ! 
Such good times came out of them.” 

Madame gazed at her with uncomprehending 
eyes. 


AT MADAME' S. 


501 


“I wish I could say that,” sobbed Madame. 
“Lizette’s baby has died, and her husband, when he 
is at home, is ill-tempered, and her mother is as 
cross as two sticks. They are still in the rooms 
below, but they do not pay their rent regularly.” 

“Poor things,” said Bel’s sympathetic voice. 

“ And Mademoiselle has lost the use of one of 
her eyes ; and her father is bed-ridden. The school 
is given up.” 

“ Then I cannot show it to Perez. I wanted 
him to see that school room, and my desk by the 
window,” said Perez’s wife, disappointed. “ I 
must go to see Mademoiselle; even if she cannot 
see me. He will laugh at me, and I could never 
show him — never that swan’s nest among the 
reeds.” She quoted from a poem Perez loved to 
read to her. 

“ She frets and worries and frets her old father,” 
said Madame, who did not catch the meaning of 
Bel’s quotation. 

“ I am so sorry; he never was nice like grand- 
papa.” 

For an instant Bel’s face was clouded. 

“ You could not expect not to find changes.” 

“ But I wanted to find pleasant changes.” 

“Mademoiselle does not need to be fretful; her 


502 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


brother has come from America with money; she 
does not look on the happy side, and I tell her so. 
Yon could rake up some trouble, if you should try, 
couldn’t you?” 

Bel thought a moment. u Going back to live 
with Miss Jue frightens me; but I will be over the' 
way from mamma. Perez is always on my side. 
No, I do not think I have a trouble in the world. I 
told Perez I am afraid I shall be sharp to his sister, 
and he laughed and said it would not hurt her. 

“ Remember she is old,” cautioned Madame, 
u and she has not all you have to be happy with. 

“She has more than you have,” said Bel, quickly. 
“I do not know how to love her; I am not glad 
when she comes into the room. The day we were 
married she told me that Perez and I would have 
our black times, she knew him better than I did, 
and I must yield or he would look at me as he did 
at her, and I must not yield, for that would encour- 
age his selfishness !” 

“ Men are natural creatures,” said Madame, “ my 
experience is that love doesnt hurt them, and 
showing love doesn’t hurt them either. When I 
look back—” she sighed, and took off her glasses 
to wipe them, “ all 1 wish is that I had known that 
then as 1 know it now.” 


AT MADAME’ S. 


503 


“ There he is, ” said the joyful voice at the win- 
dow, and Bel’s happy feet tripped over the sun- 
lighted stone steps. 

“ I wish I could begin over again,” said the pla- 
cid old voice, “ she will never have to wish that ; 
America has been a good place for her.” 

Two days more in Havre, and then Mr. and Mrs. 
Perez Dekker sailed for America. 

“ Perez,” said Bel, the day they reached home, 
“I am so glad you took me; but I did not find my- 
self there — or you; we were almost two other peo- 
ple.” 


XXXVII. 


SEVEN YEAES. 

In the long apartment we saw for the first time 
that chilly afternoon in late August, when old Malt 
stretched himself in dozing solitude by the fire, 
we find Isobel Dekker. 

It is seven years since that afternoon, still the 
room has few changes, for Miss Jue herself has 
not changed, and does not believe in changes. 

Old Malt — and he is five years older, is as much 
at home as ever; the wicker-work basket stands 
on precisely the same spot in the carpet ; the green 
shelves are filled with plants and there are yellow 
bells on the arbutilon; the lounging chairs are not 
shabby to-day, Perez had insisted upon having 
them richly upholstered; the brown and gray table 
cover had given place to crimson; the two book 
cases are still crowded with the old books, and 
the latest in science and literature were still scat- 
tered about. 

( 504 ) 


SEVEN YEARS. 


505 


Anastasia, seven years more infirm, still raised 
her cracked voice in hymns of solemn sound; a 
middle-aged woman of cheerful aspect stepped 
briskly around the kitchen, taking advice and re- 
proof with unflagging good humor. 

“ I would stay for Mrs. Dekker and the babies, 
if Stasia and Miss Jue were ten times themselves,” 
she said to Mrs. Kellinger. 

Baby Julie was something past two years old, 
and baby Kellinger something past two months. 
When the little girl came, and the name was talked 
about between the proud father and happy mother, 
and Perez magnanimously proposed “ Isobel 
Devoe,” Bel had spoken quickly and with tears 
very near: 

“Of course I would like that best; better than 
Hope Devoe, for mammas sake; but there is some 
one else, Perez. Jue does not grow happier all the 
time as we do. She is so poor and we are so rich. 
I would like to name baby for her and call her Julie.’’ 

“ You blessed little mother !” exclaimed Perez. 

And then, when Miss Julie had a baby brother, 
Perez was more magnanimous still, and proposed 
“ John Kellinger,” remembering that his wife had 
said one day: “ I never did one thing for poor 
papa. I did not even love him.” 


506 


I SOB EL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


If the step-mother felt aggrieved that Miss Jue 
might hold the “real Dekker” baby in her arms 
and say to strangers that it was named for herself, 
she was more than repaid when to the blue-eyed 
boy was given the name she still held in remorse- 
ful remembrance. 

This afternoon, late in August, but neither chilly 
nor rainy, although Miss Jue has potted her plants 
and brought them in; there are footsteps and 
laughter in the room that old Malt held that day 
in sole possession. The door leading into the next 
room is wide open, disclosing sunshine and pretty 
things in the way of furnishing. This room Perez 
calls his wife’s boudoir, but she more correctly 
terms it the Nursery. 

Grandmamma is sure to find the children there, 
even when taking their morning or afternoon 
naps, and mamma is always with them. 

“When your grandfather was alive I had a 
rival,” Perez had declared that day, “ and now I 
have two.” 

“ It is too bad I have not any,” returned Bel. 

“ You never will have, my wife,” said Perez. 

“Not even when Kelly goes to College? Not 
even when he becomes famous ? Not even when 
J ulie is a beauty ?” 


SEVEN YEARS. 


507 


“Not even when my wife growls older every day 
and sweeter every day, not even — ” 

“And more educated every day,” said Isobel, 
with a laugh. 44 Oh, what is becoming of my edu- 
cation ?” 

He held her at arms length, regarding her seri- 
ously : 

44 Have you practiced to-day ?” 

44 No, sir,” throwing her head back in radiant de- 
fiance. 

44 Or read?” 

“ Not one word.” 

“Because Kelly cries or Julie must have a new 
dress ?” 

44 Is that sufficient reason ?” 

44 He may better cry for you now than cry by- 
and-bye, because he is growing away from his 
mother; and Julie may better have one pretty the 
less that her mother may understand the books she 
loves by-and-bye, when she comes home from 
Vassar.” 

44 Perez, I do think about that.” 

44 1 want the mother of my children to be some- 
thing beside their nurse, little woman. Grown up 
boys and grown up girls expect a great deal of 
their mothers in this nineteenth century. Our 


508 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


children must not be disappointed in father or 
mother.’’ 

“ I shall love them enough.” 

u Loving is much, and nothing is of any worth 
without it. But it does not hurt love to be ex- 
pressed in excellent English, or to have the variety 
that an intelligent appreciation of the lessons of 
the day give it. I want you to know who is mak- 
ing new discoveries in France, and fighting in Rus- 
sia, exploring in Africa, navigating in the North- 
ern seas — ” 

“ The Sea of Tranquillity, the Sea of Clouds, and 
the Mid-Moon Bay ?” she smiled, mischievously. 

“I am not afraid for you,” he said seriously. 

“ Only please remember that what we may do any 
time we are apt to do in no time; and your studv 
time is when the babies are asleep.” 

44 Both of them ? One usually stays awake to 
awaken the other. I wish you had been here this 
morning. Kelly was screaming with pain, and 
Julie was screaming with rage. She was crying 
because I would not let her hold him. She seemed 
to think she could quiet him sooner than I could.” 

“ That was when she should have been pun- 
ished !” 

“ 0, I punished her,” said Bel. 44 1 am very 


SEVEN YEARS . 


509 


strict. Mamma says I am too strict. I told her 
that if she did not stop crying she should not hold 
him at all to-day.” 

“ Did she stop ?” 

“ Not instantly.” 

“ She should have stopped instantly. That was 
not obedience.” 

u I never stop instantly. She has inherited that 
among other evil tendencies from the maternal side 
of the house. If every child is a bundle of his an- 
cestors — ” 

The laughing face was brought near enough to 
be kissed; and then the busy mother had to 
promise that she would read “two pages worth 
reading every day before dinner.” 

“The childrens faces are pages worth read- 
ing,” she said, as soon as she could slip from his 
arms. 

“I want the mother’s face to be a page worth 
reading, too,” he retorted. 

And then, as Julie was in the garden with 
Aunt Jue, and Kelly asleep in his crib, she read 
for an hour the last new book he had brought 
home. 

Prosper Dekker was right when he said that 
Perez would educate his wife. Bel was not 


510 


ISOBEL'S BETWEEN TIMES. 


always sure that she liked the educating pro- 
cess; but she was always sure that she liked her 
husband. 

“ Isobel,” he said one day, “ what did you get by 
marrying me ?” 

“I got you” was the quick reply. 


XXXVIII. 


TWO WIVES AND TWO MOTHEES. 

This same afternoon in August, when Isobel and 
her children were laughing and playing in the 
nursery, Prosper Dekker and his wife were sitting 
together in their shady parlor. She was perched 
on the window seat and he was sitting below her. 
There were lines of thought in his serious face, 
and with the grace of womanhood had come to her 
its thoughtfulness. The secret of her sweetness 
and grace, was the two small graves in the grave- 
yard near the church. The secret of his strong 
manliness and whole-hearted consecration to his 
work was his daily increasing love to Christ 
“ Annie, dear wife, you are as precious to me as 
the blood of my heart; but I love the will of Christ 
more than I love you.” 

“ I know it,” she said: “and I am glad.” 

“ Is that true of you, also ?” 

“No. I love you better.” 


( 511 ) 


512 


ISOBEUS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“You will be brought to it; you are in the right 
way.” 

“ I am willing to be led.” 

“And you are willing for me to give up our 
pleasant home here, and the people who love you 
so much, to seek a new home and new work.” 

“Yes, if I may go, too.” 

“ Some one else can do the work here; but every- 
one is not as willing as I am to go among the 
Chinese.” 

“0 Prosper!” with involuntary appeal. “Not 
to China!” 

“0 no, faint heart; only across this continent. 

I wish to take a trip wdth you down the Columbia 
River. I want to show you Mount Hood and 
Multwomah Falls.” 

“1 never heard of them.” 

“No, you lady of European travel, you do not 
know enough of your own land to talk of it abroad. 
We will take another wedding journey. And then 
we must go to San Francisco. I want to do some- 
thing for the Mongolians. How that reminds me 
of dear old Mr. Devoe. He called himself an old 
Mongol. The Presbyterian Mission among the 
Chinese is the oldest on the coast. It is one of the 
results of the love of gold. The quest of gold drew 


TWO WIVES AND TWO MOTHERS . 


513 


the Americans to that coast, and it brought the 
Chinamen ; it led to the opening of J apan. Think 
of a greed for gold being the means of answering 
the prayer that a door might be opened to the 
Mongolians. 

“ I have been reading a most interesting account 
of a visit to the Mission. One Sunday, the writer 
states, during his stay, a Chinese woman and her 
child had been baptized. Her husband had been 
a Christian for years; and had prayed for his wife 
and labored to bring her to the truth. When a son 
was given them, he had urged her to bring it for 
baptism ; but the hold of heathenism was too strong 
upon her. Then the second child came, and he 
stood up alone and had it baptized. And then a 
little girl was given them, and now he had the joy 
of bringing wife and child together for baptism. 
There is a Chinese husband for you.” 

“ Perez, you have been like that — and a thou- 
sand times more to me. I wonder if God lets them 
keep their little ones.” 

“ My darling !” was his only reply, as he passed 
his arm about her. 

The second grave was but three weeks old; little 
Annie had died after the brief illness of twenty- 

four hours; Perez, the first born, was old enough to 
13 


514 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


dig in the sand and to help mamma water hex 
flowers. 

“ I will go with yon — any time.” 

“We are as near the children there.” 

“ I know,” with a sobbing breath. 

“ Is there anything you would like to do first ?” 

“Visit mamma — and then Isobel. I want to see 
the baby; I haven’t seen him; he will comfort me.” 

“God loved so that he gave — do you remember?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And he loves so that he takes ; it is the same 
love.” 

She wept upon his shoulder ; but they were very 
sweet tears; not one self-willed or rebellious drop 
among them. 


XXXIX. 


AFTERWARD. 

It is two years since that rainy August afternoon ; 
Julia is five years old, Kelly is “all of three,” he 
would tell you, and Prosper is a year old; Prosper 
is dark like the Dekkers; Aunt Jue, with a great 
deal of pride would tell you that; and she verily 
believes that Kelly is a Kellinger, only his name 
and his blue eyes and yellow hair, and that she is 
very fond of tracing back to the Devoes. 

Isobel Kellinger is fifty years old ; “an old wo- 
man,” she calls herself ; the hair covered with the 
widow’s cap is very white. When Annie Dekker 
sent her from the Pacific coast a photograph of 
herself, her husband, and their two year-old Pros- 
per, she laid it away as if she would hide some 
memory with it, and then went to the mirror and 
looked at herself; white hair, the unmistakable 
evidence of the work of years in chin, cheek, and 

brow, and then she went back, and with her 

( 515 ) 


516 


ISO BEL'S BETWEEN TIMES . 


glasses on, gazed long at the face of Prosper 
Dekker’s young wife ; was she twenty-seven ? 

What a dream that had been ! What a wild 
dream ! Wilder than any in her unconscious 
hours ! 

What had hindered ? Bather, who had hin- 
dered ? 

Suppose her life were not worth anything; he 
had said years ago that it was worth being born 
once that one might be born the second time. She 
was, therefore, glad that she was born. Eepentance 
upon earth gave one a new life up in Heaven ; he 
had said that also. She never could think of these 
things herself ; but she could remember them. 
She was not sure that her intellect had grown 
at all in these years, but she had felt the grow- 
ing of her heart. 

Marietta, Aunt Marie, and Auntie Eee, as Miss 
Devoe was called, hopped about as lightly as ten 
years ago, still busied about the neglected things, 
still doing what other people did not love to do; 
she had never thought whether she loved to or not ; 
had she thought, I think she would have conclud- 
ed that she did love to; rather, perhaps, that she 
loved to have them done. 

, The u trouble nobody knew about,” that Mrs. 


AFTERWARD. 


517 


Kellinger had hinted to Bel, no one knew about to 
this day ; she herself was hardly certain, after the 
living of thirty years, that it was a trouble now, 
and still more uncertain as to whether it ever had 
been; it is queer about these things (or isn’t 
it?) I wonder not if you care to know, because 
you do ; but if it will do you any good if I 
tell you: she had her dream in her youth, and 
her dream was that she might love John Kel- 
linger into becoming a good man; clearly his 
wife — his two wives had not done it; her dream 
was before he had married Hope Devoe, when 
she was a woman of thirty, sewing by the day 
to support herself, and help support her mother; 
the hope was as brief as a dream, and the 
awaking as if she had been rudely shaken out 
of sleep. 

If such a thing be possible, she went through her 
disappointment without thinking about it. 

Thirty years afterward she believed that Provi- 
dence was in it. The only fragment of the dream 
betrayed itself by motherliness toward John Kel- 
linger’s daughter, and grandmotherliness toward 
sturdy little Kellinger, whose name she would 
never spoil by “ Kellv-ing ” it. 

“Auntie Kee, I love you better than grand- 


518 


ISOBEES BETWEEN TIMES. 


mamma, Kellinger boldly declared one day and 
got two seed cakes for it. 

I rosper Dekker s letters, written monthly, and 
Annie s notes written weekly, w r ere among the best 
things in the life of the Dekker family. 

Extracts from Prosper’s letters were kept for Sun- 
day evening, when Auntie Ree and grandmamma 
came over to tea, and were read before the fire in 
winter and on the piazza in summer time. 

Perez and Isobel talk of taking a journey, start- 
ing on the day of their wedding anniversary to the 
Pacific coast ; Isobel looks forward to the sail down 
the Columbia River, and Perez is eager to look into 
Prosper’s face and take him by the hand. 

Grandmamma, who had never loved children, 
says she would travel all the way to see little Pros- 
pei and his baby sister. Miss J ue declares she 
would travel all the way to keep her from spoiling 
them after she got there. 

u ^ the Law in this house,” she often re- 
marks. 

“ People who do not understand children,” wrote 
Prosper in one of his monthly letters, “lose a great 
deal, not only of earth, but of heaven, ‘ for of such 
is the kingdom of Heaven.’ 

“ How can one who has been a child but under- 


AFTERWARD. 


519 


stand a child ? Do we not understand what we 
have been through? I suppose some people (1 
have seen them) go over instead of through child- 
hood.” 

Annie’s half dozen sheets to Isobel were filled 
with the sayings of the children and notes from 
her husband’s sermons. 

“ She is somebody’s wife and somebody’s mo- 
ther, that is all she is,” remarked Perez, one even- 
ing, after his wife had talked over with him her 
last letter. 

“ What more would you have her ?” asked Isobel 
in astonishment. 

“ I would have her a lady that I would be inter- 
ested in, if she were an old maid.” 

“ She would have been interesting in that way 
then.” 

“ I doubt it.” 

“ I never can prove it to you.” 

“ It proves itself to me that she would not. Her 
husband and children are only three people; they 
clasp hands around her and she revolves inside 
that limited circle; I wonder if she would have be- 
come more or less wdthout her children ?” 

“ Perez, you are hard ! She appreciates Pros- 


per. 


520 


I SO BE VS BETWEEN TIMES . 


“She appreciates her husband; lam not at all 
sure that she appreciates Prosper Dekker.” 

“ Perhaps you think he is above any woman’s 
appreciation,” retorted Isobel, with a touch of her 
maiden sauciness. 

As the years went on Isobel Dekker found other 
precious things to lay away with her two treasures : 
her own mother’s likeness and the tiny book she 
had read on board the Goodspeed. 

Prosper Dekker’s prayer concerning her was 
fully answered — and answered as he asked; his 
“ service” was blessed to her. 

Janet and Ellinor visited her every summer. 
One summer Janet brought her husband, and every 
summer Ellinor brought something to talk about; 
Perez Dekker told his wife that Ellinor Dermot 
was a woman that one could not meet for an hour 
without becoming interested in what she thought 
and what she did. 

She said herself that she felt that she was only a 
Ehizopod, but she was willing to build for the 
sake of the cliff. 

Lizette’s husband died, and she lived for her two 
bright-eyed boys. Isobel often wrote to her, and 
sent to her and to Madame Mowbray the photo- 
graphs of her three children; promising Madame 


AFTERWARD . 


521 


that Julie should some day stand at her windows 
and look out into the Square. But she would not 
wonder what she was made for, because she was 
learning every day. 

Isobefs English friend wrote to her that she was 
married, and, as Perez put it, “that was the end of 
her,” for she never wrote again. 

The story that Julie liked best was 44 how mamma 
came over the sea to be a comfort to grandpapa.” 

One day, twisting herself about on the music 
stool, Julie burst out: 44 Oh, mamma, may I run 
down in the garden to rest — between times ?” 

“Yes, darling, you may always rest your eyes 
and your fingers 4 between times,’ when you study 
and practice.” 

“ How long, mamma ?” standing seriously before 
her and looking up, with her father’s eyes softened 
with her mother’s expression. “ Will you know 
when it is over ?” Had not One always known 
when her between times of hard times or good 
times was 44 over ” ? 

44 Five minutes every half hour.” 

As she bounded away to answer Kellinger’s call, 
her mother’s eyes shone through tears : 44 Oh, my 
little daughter, may your between times be like 
your mother’s — preparation for all the other times.” 






March, 188 . 


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